It's All Business
by Sanded Silk
Summary: Somewhat-modern take on Jane Austen's masterpiece, "Pride and Prejudice". I know the plot's overused, but please give mine a try XD Elizabeth/Darcy, Jane/Bingley, all other canon pairings
1. Chapter 1

Soooo I recently read Pride and Prejudice/watched the 2005 version. Both were reeeally good! And so now I'm writing. Yeaaah.

Just a modern take on the original. I know this is sooooo overused, but I'll try to make it unique and special and enjoyable. Please review! I love getting love. And flames, I guess. Eehhh.

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Still. After all this time. **

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

"Mr. Reynolds! Here for the usual? Of course. Hanna, I don't suppose you could introduce me to your friend? Benina! I love your name. I'm Elizabeth, but you can call me Lizzy. How are you? Oh, sorry, just a sec—let me take this man's orders, and I'll get right back to you."

Elizabeth Bennet prided herself in being able to easily converse with anyone she met, and her pride was very justified, for she truly was talented at making friends with pretty much anyone. At the restaurant she worked at, _Glorya's Coffee Nook_, everyone knew her as the cheerful young lady who endeavored fearlessly to learn everyone's name, and could always offer a smile and a word of advice.

While she was dutifully taking a stranger's order, her best friend, Charlotte, appeared at the kitchen doorway.

"Lizzy, there's a phone call for you."

"For me? At eight in the morning?"

"It's your sister, Jane."

"Oh." Elizabeth adjusted her dark green apron and started towards the nearest phone. "Did she say why she's calling?"

"No, but there's a lot of screaming in the background, so—"

"Screaming!" Elizabeth broke into a sprint, grabbed the phone, and slammed it to her ear.

"Hello—ow!—Hello? Jane? Jane?"

"Yes, Lizzy. It's me."

"Is something wrong? What's all that screaming in the background?"

"Nothing's wrong. The screaming is Kitty and Lydia, as usual. Good news! You've heard of Charles Bingley?"

"The really handsome, really rich business owner? Yes, of course. Doesn't mom talk about him every day?"

"Well, apparently, he's arriving in our town tomorrow to look at a house he wants to buy, and Dad's invited him to the Meryton dinner party next week."

"What—? Really?"

"Yes! So Kitty and Lydia are all excited, and Mom's blood pressure is through the roof—"

"I can't come home right now, you know."

"Oh, don't worry about getting home early. Just thought you'd like to know. Details later?"

"Of course."

Elizabeth hung up the phone, and as she ran back to the counter, she ran this piece of news through her head one more time. Charles Bingley! If he got together with one of Elizabeth's four sisters—or Elizabeth herself—their family wouldn't have to worry a pinch about financial issues anymore. And from what they'd heard, Charles Bingley was a pleasant young man, easy to joke and laugh, altogether very amiable. She hated to sound vulgar, but what a catch he'd be!

Charlotte appeared beside her. "So how is everything?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "You know Mr. Charles Bingley? Apparently he's coming to town, so of course the two younger ones are excited, and Mom—well."

Charlotte stared at Elizabeth "Bingley? Charles Bingley? The rich, famous, handsome, funny—"

"Yes, yes. Charles Bingley."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yes."

" ..._Wow_."

"Charlotte, are you going to help me with these customers?"

"Sorry, sorry."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Elizabeth raced home once her shift was over, and was greeted by her still-incensed younger sisters, Lydia and Kitty. Mary, the calmest of them all, stood in the doorway and watched with a slightly exasperated expression as her younger sisters barreled into Elizabeth, screaming the news.

"Guys, get back in! Look at how you're dressed—all this snow—yes, I know who's coming. I _know_. To the Meryton party—yes, Lydia, I suppose he'll ask you to dance—_Yes_, before all the other girls—"

Jane came to the rescue, pushing past Mary. "Lydia! Kitty! Get inside, you're letting all the cold air in."

The party somehow made it inside, and as Elizabeth shucked her coat and snowboots and shook off her scarf and gloves, Lydia and Kitty—joined by their mother—continued the excited rant. Mary drifted in, and watched silently before cutting in.

"Maybe it would be more productive of you all to start choosing what you'll wear. The party is only two days away."

"Two days! Oh, I forgot—I keep saying 'next week', which sounds so much longer—" Lydia cried, horrified, and bustled off to her room, Kitty in tow. Mrs. Bennet didn't seem to hear Mary.

"I can't stop wondering how wonderful it'd be if Mr. Bingley found one of you girls attractive! The courting will be over soon enough—and then marriage—"

"Marriage will not come for a long time," Jane observed. "Courtship should be a thorough, steady process."

Mrs. Bennet waved her hand impatiently. "Oh, it will be over before you know. Where did Lydia and Kitty go?"

"They went to plan what to wear for the party."

"So soon?"

"Mom, it's in two days."

"...Why so it is." And Mrs. Bennet rushed off.

Elizabeth gave a resigned sigh as she moved towards the fireplace. "They all get so excited so easily. I don't understand why Mr. Bingley's coming is such a big deal. All those big-shot business men must never take relationships seriously. For us bumpkins in Hertfordshire, flirtation means courtship, and courtship means marriage, but for them..."

Mary shrugged. "I suppose for them, it's a welcome diversion. They don't exactly take this kind of thing seriously."

"Lydia and Kitty, or big-shot business men?"

"Both, I guess."

Elizabeth nudged Jane, smirking. "Once Mr. Bingley sees you, he won't be able to resist wanting to see you again. You don't have to worry about being played on by any man."

Jane laughed. "Nor do you."

Elizabeth put on her best imitation of Mrs. Bennet. "But Jane, dear, you are by far the _most_ beautiful of your sisters, and the _most_ mature, and the _most_ amiable!" She dropped the imitation. "Seriously, Jane, you are. One look at you, and Bingley'll be hopeless."

"But you are by far the most intelligent of all women here. Besides Mary, of course." Mary nodded acknowledgement, and, seeming to remember something, drifted off in the direction of the library.

Jane continued. "And you have, by far, the most wit of anyone in town. No one can win an argument against you." Jane nudged Elizabeth. "And you're not unattractive. You're very pretty, Lizzy. Especially your eyes. Don't listen to Mom."

Elizabeth laughed, as she always did when she heard something ridiculous. "Thank you, Jane. And don't worry about Mom's putting me down. If I were her favorite, I think I'd die."

As their giggles subsided, Mr. Bennet walked in, tired but amused.

"Are the three crazies gone?"

"If you mean Mom, Lydia, and Kitty, then yes, they've gone. They're planning what to wear for the Meryton party."

"Figures." Mr. Bennet sighed. "Well, at least I'll have a few moments of quiet to myself. Mary's in the library, no doubt."

"I think so."

"She's handling all this Bingley business quite well, as expected. I'll be in the office if you need me." With that, he fairly ran.

Jane looked thoughtful. "Lizzy, do you know what you're wearing for the party?"

"Oh, Jane, not you too."

"I'm serious, Lizzy. It's probably for the best if we decide what to wear now, instead of fussing all over it the afternoon before."

"All right. I don't have much to do right now, anyway."

* * *

**A/N:** Whao, that was horrible. Most likely I'll be redoing this chapter. Please feel free to flame it ;)

-Sanded Silk-


	2. Chapter 2

Second chapter. I've decided that the first chapter can't be rewritten; I can't find a way to make it more interesting _

**Disclaimer: I don't own anythinggg**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

"Is he here? Do you see him?" Lydia asked Elizabeth, trying to be unheard by other people and yet heard by Elizabeth over the soulful saxophone.

Elizabeth sighed. "No, I don't. Hurry up and eat."

"But how can I, when the butterflies are dancing around in my stomach—"

"Lydia, he _said_ that he would be late, and it's barely ten minutes into the party! He made it perfectly clear that he'd miss the food. He'll be here a little before the dancing starts, I guess."

Lydia sighed, twirled her fork in her spaghetti, and leaned over to talk to Kitty.

About twenty minutes later, the first couple bravely took to the dance floor and began to sway side to side to the jazz music. As more couples joined them, the music became livelier, and laughter filled the room to the high domed ceiling of the hall. Still, Bingley didn't appear. Lydia and Kitty, having given up on waiting, were on the dance floor, laughing and twisting with two other young men. Elizabeth's friend, Charlotte Lucas, had arrived, and the two were chatting animatedly with Jane when a sudden hush fell over the room. Everyone strained their necks to see the door, and Elizabeth stood on her toes.

"What is it?" Jane asked anxiously.

"It's Charles Bingley! There's two other people with him. I don't know who they are."

"Hold on, let me see." Jane stood up with Elizabeth to strain and stare.

"The one in the middle is Mr. Bingley for sure. Oh my gosh, he is so very handsome."

"What about the other two?"

"The lady is his younger sister, Caroline Bingley. The other young man—Oh."

"What?"

"It's...It's Mr. Darcy. You know, Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

Elizabeth snickered. "Ah yes, I do recognize the name. _Fitzwilliam._ And he looks so miserable! Look how he sweeps his eyes over us, like we're his adoring fans or something—"

Charlotte had stood up as well, and was oggling. "He's no one to make fun of, Lizzy. I think Mr. Darcy is even richer than Mr. Bingley."

"Even richer!"

"Oh yes." Jane nodded.

"Is he also a business owner?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, an even more of a business giant than Mr. Bingley."

The three newcomers were greeted by the host of the party, Mr. Bell. As formalities were quietly exchanged, a lone violinist tentatively struck up a tune, and was gladly followed by his band. Everyone shrugged, and continued dancing where they'd left off.

Almost as if by magic, Mrs. Bennet appeared at Jane's and Elizabeth's elbows, and pulled them towards the newcomers. Lydia and Kitty were close behind.

"Come along, girls, come along—Jane, your hair—behind your ear—there you go—Oh, Elizabeth, why couldn't you wear something more _sophisticated—"_

They stopped with a start before Mr. Bingley.

Mrs. Bennet suddenly turned fawningly sweet.

"Mr. Bingley? You know Mr. Bennet, right? He was the one who invited you to this party?"

"Yes, of course I know Mr. Bennet," Charles Bingley said, smiling earnestly. "You must be Mrs. Bennet?"

"Yes. These are my daughters. This is Kitty, Lydia, Elizabeth, and Jane. My other daughter, Mary, is sitting over there—you see her?" Mrs. Bennet pointed at Mary, then seemed to wish she hadn't; Mary was sitting by herself, with a very bored expression on her face.

"Yes, I do. Pleasure to meet you all." Mr. Bingley smiled again, bowing slightly. He looked over each smiling face earnestly, and his eyes finally rested on Jane. Elizabeth suppressed a giggle.

Mr. Bingley suddenly remembered himself. "Ah, yes. I haven't introduced you to my party. This is Caroline Bingley, my sister."

Caroline curtsied shortly, with a "Hello" so short it was almost inaudible.

"And this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, my closest friend."

Mr. Darcy bowed shallowly, and didn't bother saying hello. The Bennets greeted both with smiles and very audible "Hello"s and "Welcome"s. Elizabeth glanced uneasily between Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley.

"My Jane is very beautiful, is she not?" Mrs. Bennet blurted. Jane muffled a gasp and nudged her mother's arm.

Mr. Bingley's eyes rested on Jane again.

"Yes she is, Mrs. Bennet."

Jane's cheeks colored, and she looked away uncomfortably.

Mr. Bingley held out a hand to Jane, still smiling. "May I have the next dance?"

"Uh...uh..." Jane stammered, staring at his hand.

Mr. Bingley's smile widened. Mrs. Bennet practically shoved Jane in the ribs.

Jane's hand fell into Mr. Bingley's.

"I...uh...Yes, sir. Mr. Bingley. Of course. Next dance."

Lydia sidled up to Mr. Darcy, simpering. "Mr. Darcy, do you dance?"

Mr. Darcy barely spared Lydia a glance. "Not if I can help it."

"...Oh." Lydia glanced at Kitty, making an over-exaggerated face (which no one missed), and scampered off to find another victim. Meanwhile, Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth watched as Mr. Bingley and Jane, hands joined, walked towards the dance floor.

"Aren't they a beautiful couple?" Mrs. Bennet gushed. Elizabeth folded her arms and watched the pair carefully. Bingley was really getting into it all, but Jane—modest, shy Jane—was literally keeping him an arm's distance away, blushing and watching the floor pass by underneath.

Mr. Bennet somehow made his way to Elizabeth through the crowd.

"So how is everything? Have you met Mr. Bingley?"

Elizabeth pointed at the couple. Mr. Bennet stared for a moment.

"Wow. Didn't take too much effort, did it?"

"Nah. Bingley took one look at Jane, and..." Elizabeth trailed off, sweeping her hand at the couple, smiling.

As soon as the song ended, Elizabeth darted forward to save Jane from being asked to another dance with Mr. Bingley. As Mrs. Bennet fawned over Mr. Bingley—"Oh, Mr. Bingley, you are such a talented dancer! So light on your feet!"—Elizabeth took Jane's elbow and led her away.

"So how was it?" Elizabeth asked once they were a safe distance away from Mrs. Bennet.

"Oh," Jane sighed, and covered her blushing cheeks with her hands. Elizabeth laughed and poked Jane in the stomach.

"He was..." Jane faltered, and tried again. "He was wonderful. I stumbled so many times—I've never danced the dance before, never even heard of it—but he never laughed at me, he just put me back on my feet and kept leading me through—and his smile—"

"He's wonderful, isn't he?"

Jane nodded, smiling shyly. "Y...Yes."

Elizabeth glanced to her right. "Look out, here he comes again." She looked closer. "Oh, with that snobbish friend of his. Mr. _Fitzwilliam_ Darcy."

Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy didn't seem to notice the two sisters. They began to talk. "So how are you enjoying the party, Will?"

Elizabeth mouthed, Will? Jane shrugged.

Mr. Darcy shrugged, looking a bit uptight. "I'm not really enjoying it that much. Too many strangers. How was the dance?"

"She is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen. I don't think I've ever seen someone stumble as gracefully as she does."

Jane's blush deepened, and she covered her whole face with her hands.

Mr. Bingley continued. "What about you? You haven't even deigned to dance with my sister yet. Why don't you invite one of the other Bennet sisters to dance? They all seemed very nice. Elizabeth is very pretty."

"The two younger ones are too...er, forward. Elizabeth's pretty, yes, but not enough to tempt me."

Elizabeth's smile vanished. Jane's face emerged from her hands, horrified.

Mr. Bingley looked at his friend for a moment, then shrugged. "Suit yourself."

Mr. Darcy motioned as if shooing his friend away. "Why don't you invite Jane to another dance? You're wasting your time with me. Go enjoy her smiles."

Smiling, Mr. Bingley left. Elizabeth glanced over at Mr. Darcy, and saw his shoulders sag as he walked away.

Jane fumbled for her sister's hands. "It's all right, Lizzy. See—If Mr. Darcy liked you, you'd have to dance with him. Talk to him."

Elizabeth collected herself, and smiled.

Jane grinned back. "You're always like this, Lizzy. Laughing at people who belittle you until it seems you're belittling them. I wish I had your talent."

"Ah, but modesty and shyness suits you the best, Jane. Now go to Bingley, he looks hopelessly lost."

Jane gave her sister one last encouraging look, and walked away with the quandary of approaching Mr. Bingley without seeming too forward. Elizabeth watched her sister for a moment, before turning to raze Mr. Darcy's back with a long, cold glare.

* * *

**A/N: **Ehh, it's getting better.

Thanks to everyone who story-alerted me, but please, please review? I really need feedback. I feel like I'm just re-narrating the story, except in some modern-day environment. I need feedback. I mean, I have a few twists planned, but...ya know.

SO PLEASE REVIEW! I'LL GIVE YOU INTERNET CHOCOLATE!

-Sanded Silk-


	3. Chapter 3

Third chapter! I have to get this story at least halfway up before school starts. Uuuugh, schoooool. _shudder_

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. This is really just a formality; you all should know by now that I don't seem to own anything...well, maybe a few stories. Anyway.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

Elizabeth didn't have to work at _Glorya's Coffee Nook_ on Thursday mornings, so she was able to stay home with her family for breakfast.

"Lord, how I love winter break," She sighed as she luxuriously speared a honey-drenched waffle.

"Don't we all?" Jane replied.

"Oh, hush," Lydia huffed crossly. "You're in college; your winter break is a whole week-and-a-half longer than ours."

Jane opened her mouth, then closed it. Smiled.

Mr. Bennet, who was sorting through the morning mail, suddenly tossed an envelope at Jane. "From a Bingley."

"Bingley!" The rest of the family jumped to its feet and crowded around Jane as she struggled to open the envelope without dropping it into her oatmeal.

"What does it say?" "Lydia, get off my foot!"

"It..." Jane scanned over it quickly. "Miss Bingley's invited me to dine with her." The whole family cheered half-heartedly. No one'd forgotten Miss Bingley's cold greeting at the party.

Jane's face fell a millimeter. "Mr. Bingley will be dining out."

"What?" Mrs. Bennet looked scandalized. "Well that doesn't make any sense."

Jane recovered immediately. "Well, I suppose I should get ready. She wants me to go as soon as I receive the letter."

As Jane got up from the table and ran for her room, Mrs. Bennet stared at the sky for a moment.

"No car for Jane," She announced abruptly. "She'll walk. Just three miles. It's quite nothing."

Mr. Bennet followed her gaze up to the sky. "But my dear, it's about to sleet!"

"Oh yes," Mrs. Bennet said, smiling. "I know."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Elizabeth stared at the email on her computer screen.

"Mom?"

Mrs. Bennet appeared at her doorway. "Yes?"

"Did you make Jane walk to Mr. Bingley's house?"

"Why yes, I did. Why?"

"When you knew there would be sleet?"

"Yes...?"

Elizabeth read from the screen. "'Lizzy: I'm very sad to say that I seem to have caught a cold. I can't even walk three miles home, that's how bad it is. Fortunately Miss Bingley is willing to let me stay at her house until I am well enough to leave. I can't help but to wonder if this was the reason why Mom made me walk despite the very obvious stormclouds looming overhead when I left? Anyhow, just wanted to let you know. Except for a headache and a sore throat, and a bit of a fever, there's nothing much wrong with me. See you soon, Jane."

Mrs. Bennet's face lit up visibly. "Really? Oh this is good news indeed! Plenty of time for Jane and Mr. Bingley—"

"How could you do this? Make Jane catch a terrible cold just because you want her to hitch up with Bingley and leech off his money?"

"Lizzy—"

"Do you know how ridiculous you are? I'm leaving right now."

"But where are you—?"

"To visit Jane!"

"But Lizzy, you must let Jane have time alone with—"

"With Mr. Bingley?"

"Yes, of course!"

Elizabeth stared at her mother for a long moment, then cocked her head. "Jane's wellbeing is the very last of your priorities right now, isn't it?"

"Well, I..." Mrs. Bennet shrugged, her mouth opening and closing.

Elizabeth nodded. "I see." After another moment of silence, Elizabeth walked around her mother to the front hall.

As Elizabeth was slipping her feet into her boots, Mr. Bennet cut through the hall and stopped when he saw Elizabeth. "Lizzy? Are you leaving?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"To visit Jane."

"What's wrong with Jane?"

Elizabeth looked up from zipping her coat. "She didn't e-mail you?"

"No."

"Oh. Well," Elizabeth said as she finished zipping the coat up to her chin, "Jane's forced to stay at the Bingley's because she caught a cold while walking in the pouring sleet."

Mr. Bennet nodded slowly. "All going according to your mother's plan, isn't it?" He said, with not a bit of humor.

Elizabeth spat out an affirmative as she shoved her hands into her gloves.

"Well, if it seems you'll have to stay overnight, or if Jane takes a turn for the worse, don't hesitate to call. I'll send someone over with more clothes."

"More clothes!" Elizabeth slapped a gloved hand to her mouth. "I should get Jane some clothes! Well _duh_—thank you, Daddy—" Elizabeth kicked off her boots and ran to fill a bag with random articles of clothing from Jane's closet. Ready at last to leave, Elizabeth peered outside, judged it safe enough to walk, and set out.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy were in the dining room—Mr. Darcy reading over his letters, and Miss Bingley watching him read his letters—when Elizabeth was shown by a maid into the room.

Miss Bingley took one look, and couldn't help curling her lip in disgust. No wonder—Elizabeth's clothes were spattered with melted snow and dark road salt, and her windblown hair made her look somewhat psycho. Mr. Darcy gaped, then remembered his manners and stood.

"Miss Elizabeth."

"Hello." She let out a little nervous laugh. "Sorry for just dropping in, but I would like to see my sister."

"She's upstairs. The maid will show you to her room."

"Oh." Elizabeth looked around for a moment, then back at Mr. Darcy. "Thank you," She said, bobbing in a sad excuse of a curtsy. Mr. Darcy tilted his head with a slightly confused expression as she walked out, and his expression did not go unnoticed by Miss Bingley.

Miss Bingley leaned over the table, staring at him earnestly. "Did you see her clothes? Completely covered in sludge. Positively mediaeval."

Mr. Darcy murmured something inaudible, still staring after Elizabeth.

Miss Bingley pushed on. "And her hair—I think if it weren't for her hat, she'd have appeared as though electrocuted. She must have walked, like her idiot sister."

Mr. Darcy looked at Miss Bingley for a moment, then sat down and returned with difficulty to his letter. Miss Bingley watched him shrewdly, and couldn't help but wonder whether she'd gotten through to him or not.

Elizabeth knocked on Jane's door gently before entering. Jane looked up, and her mouth fell open when Elizabeth tip-toed into the room, a mass of curly dark hair and spattered clothing.

Jane tried to sit up. "Lizzy! You here?"

"Of course. Someone had to bring you a change of clothes."

"But you didn't have to—did you _walk_?"

"Of course! It's not sleeting anymore, you know."

"Yes, but one would think you'd learn a lesson from my walking here—"

"It was nothing. Though you should have seen Miss Bingley's face. She was absolutely disgusted by me. It was wonderful." Elizabeth giggled at the memory of Miss Bingley's delicately-turned lip. Jane smiled.

"And Mr. Darcy didn't bother you?"

"He was actually very civil. He looked at me strangely, though. I'm not sure what to make of it."

"What do you mean?"

"When I walked in, it looked like..." Elizabeth stopped, and grappled for words. "It looked as if I'd caught him off guard, or something. Whatever it was, I'm sure it wasn't anything important."

"You don't supposed he could have taken an interest in you?"

"An interest? In me? With that fox of a Miss Bingley clinging to his arm? I don't think so. And didn't you hear what he said about me at the party?"

"He was probably in a bad mood, or he was shy—"

"That man is the most arrogant, most disdainful creature to have ever prowled the earth."

"Lizzy, you..." Jane broke off, not knowing what to say. She did agree with Elizabeth, after all. Slowly, she lowered herself back into bed, and smiled at her sister.

"It was really nice of you to come visit me."

Elizabeth looked relieved by the change of subject. The thought of Mr. Darcy interested in her—she involuntarily shuddered. He was very good-looking—_very_ good-looking—but alas, his personality didn't match with his looks at all.

"It was nothing, Jane. Like I said, change of clothes. Miss Bingley didn't insist on you wearing any of her things, did she?"

"Actually, these are her spare pajamas."

"Oooh. Then I insist you take a shower before you wear your own pajamas."

Elizabeth scarcely sat down on the bed before a knock sounded at the door, and a sheepish Mr. Bingley stuck his head into the room.

"Miss Elizabeth! My sister told me you were here. I'm glad to see you again."

"The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Bingley." Elizabeth got up to shake his hand. "Thank you so much for taking care of Jane. She's even more comfortable here than she would be at home."

"Oh, no, it's a pleasure.—I mean, no, it's not a pleasure that she's ill, it's just—a pleasure—that she's here." When he'd come in, Jane had drawn her blankets over herself despite the all-concealing pajamas. As his eyes searched her face, she blushed, and tried to fight the smile tugging at her face.

Elizabeth looked between the two, quite pleased. "Mr. Bingley, do you by any chance have a library I can rifle through?"

"Of course! There is one on the third floor. Do you want me to show it to you?"

"No thank you, I'll stumble upon it sooner or later. And—er—I am sure that you, your sister, and your friend have other engagements throughout the week, so could I intrude upon your privacy and stay here at your home? I'd like to be able to take care of my sister."

Mr. Bingley nodded, unhesitant. "I was going to offer for you to stay! I'll have a room prepared for you. Thank you for offering to stay. I was worrying that I wouldn't be able to stay near Jane every day." He paused, and his face flushed. "Of course, I meant, just to take care of her—"

"Yes, Mr. Bingley. Thank you for letting me stay. I'll just call my parents, and tell them." Elizabeth smiled as Mr. Bingley left the room, still blushing. As he closed the door, Elizabeth reached over and poked Jane, who pulled her blanket over her face, giggling.

"Well, I'll go off to the library and leave you in peace. Or do you want me to bring back something?"

* * *

**A/N:** Not off to a bad start, I guess. Third chapter up and running.

Thanks to the people who reviewed: **Avanell, Uppsalingen, wannbehermy, **and **RedRose102**! I don't care if you just have a few words to say, or if you want to rant your guts out—I just love hearing back from you guys. =D

SO REVIEW!

-Sanded Silk-


	4. Chapter 4

Fourth chapter! One chapter a day...up til today, I guess. Sorry, there was this picnic thing that I didn't know about that my family dragged me to, and I thought we would make it home early, but now it's 10pm, and with school starting soon I figured I should stop going to bed at 3am, so...yeah. Anyway, enjoy my story! AND REVIEW!

**Disclaimer: iiiiIIIIIii ddooOOOnnnnn'tttTT ooooWwnn annnNNYYythhhhhiiinggGG**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

Unfortunately, due to Jane's sickly state, she was unable to stay awake most of the day. That left Elizabeth in the simpering company of Miss Bingley and the stone-cold company of Mr. Darcy, in Mr. Bingley's luxurious sitting room. Mr. Bingley also hovered nearby, but seemed to defer most of the conversation to his companions, preferring to sit aside and listen idly.

"You write so rapidly, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley drawled.

"I actually write rather slowly," was his stony reply, not sparing Miss Bingley a glance as his pen flashed across the paper.

"And the content of the letter is so utterly dense and boring," Miss Bingley pushed on, leaning over his shoulder to pretend to read. "Letters of business. How _odious_."

Mr. Darcy didn't reply.

"Oh!" Miss Bingley suddenly remembered something. "When you write to your sister, tell her that I miss her very much."

"I told her in my last letter."

"I _do_ dote on her."

"I noticed."

"She is _such_ an accomplished young woman! Only sixteen, and yet so womanly and mature; her level of skill at the piano is incredible, and her latest little embroidery design—the most adorable thing ever! In your next letter, tell her how much I wish to see her—"

"I think the one time I told her will suffice."

Miss Bingley's mouth wagged soundlessly for a moment. "Oh, how I...how I _do_ dote on her. Such an accomplished young lady."

Elizabeth peeked up at Miss Bingley over the top edge of E.J. Gaines' _A Lesson Before Dying_.

Mr. Bingley finally put in a word. "I don't know how you young ladies manage to be so accomplished."

Miss Bingley turned a cold eye to her brother. "What do you mean, Charles?"

"Well," he said, smiling, "you draw and paint, play the piano, study foreign languages, embroider cushions—I don't know one woman who can't be called accomplished."

"The term can't be used too liberally," Mr. Darcy cut in. "Truthfully, I know only six or so young women who are genuinely 'accomplished'."

Miss Bingley nodded vigorously. "Of course! An _accomplished _woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages to deserve the title." She paused theatrically. "She must posess a certain something in her air and manner of walking." To demonstrate, Miss Bingley raised her arms in a swanlike manner and proceeded to glide towards nothing in particular.

Elizabeth put her book down and spoke directly to Mr. Darcy. "I see why you only know six accomplished women. I don't know any."

He looked at her for a moment. "Why so harsh on your own sex?"

"Just being honest," Elizabeth said, shrugging and smiling. "I've never seen such a woman. She'd be a scary thing to behold."

Mr. Bingley snorted.

Miss Bingley, meanwhile, had chosen to glide towards Elizabeth. She stopped right in front of Elizabeth, effectively severing eye contact between Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

"Elizabeth, shall we take a walk around the room?"

"I'm not sure if I can manage a certain something in my air and manner of walking, though." Nevertheless, she stood. Miss Bingley proceeded to promenade around the room, while Elizabeth chose to swing her arms freely and admire the sitting room.

"It's quite refreshing, isn't it?" Miss Bingley asked after an uncertain silence. "After sitting so long in one attitude, you must feel at least a little refreshed."

"...I guess so, yes."

"Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley ventured, "why don't you join us?"

"No thank you. I think I'd actually ruin your walk if I joined."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Mr. Darcy sighed, putting down his pen for a moment to flex his fingers, "there can only be two reasons why the two of you are walking. One: you have private business that you want to discuss. Two: you are trying to show off your bodies by walking around the room. If the first, I would intrude. If the second, I can watch perfectly from here."

Elizabeth's breath hitched. Did Mr. Darcy just—just tell a _joke_? And a kind-of dirty one, too?

Meanwhile, Charles was snickering as Miss Bingley blushed profusely. "Shocking! How should we punish him for such speech, Elizabeth?"

"We could always make fun of him."

"Oh." Miss Bingley stopped cold. "Oh, no. Mr. Darcy is _not_ to be teased."

"Too proud to be teased?" Elizabeth raised an eyebrow in Mr. Darcy's direction. "And would you consider pride a fault or virtue?"

"That I can't say."

"Well, we're trying to find fault in you." Elizabeth smirked. Mr. Darcy looked down at his letter, silent for a moment.

"Maybe," he said finally, "it's that I find it hard to forgive people once they wrong me or anyone else I love. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."

There was a stretch of silence. Elizabeth cocked her head, smirk gone. But almost as suddenly as her smirk disappeared, a good-natured grin appeared.

"Wow. I'm afraid I can't make fun of you for that." Elizabeth's grin widened. "Too bad, because if I did, I'd see you laugh."

Mr. Darcy looked up at Elizabeth, searching her smile intensely. She returned his stare with equal intensity. A thick silence blanketed the room.

Miss Bingley watched the exchange with a smoldering jealousy, and was about to say something—_anything—_when Elizabeth tore her gaze from Mr. Darcy's eyes to find her way back to the love seat she'd left her book in. Miss Bingley took a gulp of breath, and re-positioned herself beside Mr. Darcy to watch him write.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The time finally came when Jane was well enough to leave. Elizabeth hovered around her sister as they made their way slowly down the stairs. Mr. Bingley waited at the bottom, smiling at Jane. Jane, all the while, found the carpet very interesting.

As they were leaving the house and getting into Mr. Bennet's car, Elizabeth stopped to smile at Miss Bingley. "Thank you for your stimulating company, Caroline. It was very refreshing."

"Not at all. Pleasure's all mine."

Elizabeth turned then to Mr. Bingley. "I just remembered: Lydia asked me to ask you whether you'd consider holding a ball at your new mansion. Ever since I told her how beautiful your mansion is, she's been dying to ask you."

"She only needs to tell me the date and time."

"Thank you very much for putting up with her childish requests."

"It's nothing." They exchanged smiles and a handshake.

Elizabeth turned to Mr. Darcy, who was watching her silently. She ventured to smile. "Thank you for putting up with my intrusion, Mr. Darcy."

"My pleasure."

As Elizabeth turned, she stepped on a patch of black ice and slipped. Before a scream could escape her throat, someone caught her and gently set her back on her feet. She turned around, winded, and found herself staring at the collar of Mr. Darcy's coat.

"Oh! Er." She pulled herself away, nearly slipping again. "Th—Thank you, Mr. Darcy."

He mumbled something incoherent and ducked his head before turning away. Elizabeth stared at his hunched shoulders for a moment.

"Elizabeth?" Jane called from inside the car. She hadn't seen Elizabeth's blunder. With a sigh of relief, Elizabeth carefully climbed into the car, and found herself battling a flutter in her stomach as she tried to keep up with Jane's animated praises of Mr. Bingley.

* * *

**A/N**: Honestly, please tell me how to make this more interesting. I really just restating lines from the 2005 film, and putting the characters in a modern environment.

REVIEW! And thanks to all who replied. Too bummed to name names, but know that I'm grateful. :D

-Sanded Silk-


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter le fifth. READ AND REVIEW.

**Disclaimer: I hate formalities.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

"So Charlotte," Elizabeth stopped her friend in the midst of the Coffee Nook's crazy morning hours the next day. "Have you heard about Mr. Bingley's party?"

"Yes, I did! It's the day after tomorrow, five o'clock, at Mr. Bingley's mansion, right?"

"That's right." Elizabeth slammed a fist against a coffee machine in frustration, and the machine finally spit out the last drops of coffee. Satisfied, Elizabeth proceeded to add the condiments.

"Lydia was bugging Mr. Bingley all during Jane's stay to hold a party at his mansion. She is such a _child_. Dad has full capability to make Lydia behave, but he doesn't bother. I think her foolishness amuses him rather than embarrasses him."

Charlotte snorted as she retrieved a bagel from the inside the glass counter. "Everyone in Hertfordshire thinks so, I'm sure."

Elizabeth stuck a straw into her masterpiece, and handed it to a shivering man with a smile before turning back to Charlotte. "So anyway, you are coming to the party right?"

Charlotte nodded. "Of course."

Elizabeth glanced at the clock. "Oh, my shift's over. I can't work overtime this time, Char, I've gotta go with my sisters to the welcome-back party for the soldiers."

"Oh yes, the _handsome, heroic_ Marines." Charlotte imitated Lydia's excited squeal.

"Shush." Elizabeth untied her apron and hung it on the hook near the kitchen door. "Glorya, I'm leaving!" She shouted into the kitchen.

Glorya's raspy voice floated through the kitchen and blasted into the area behind the counter. "What? You always work overtime! Someone's gotta help poor Charlotte take care of that angry mob."

"Eddy promised to come in_—_"

"Eddy is a _lunkhead_. He's not going to come in 'til thirty minutes later. I swear, I gotta fire that boy."

"I'm sorry, Glorya, but I really have to go. I promised my sisters_—_"

"It's fine. Go ahead."

"Thank you!" Elizabeth ran to put on her coat before Glorya changed her mind, and rushed out into the slushy street.

Elizabeth's four sisters were just turning around the corner a block up ahead. "Elizabeth!" Jane shouted, waving her arm.

"Coming!" Elizabeth waved back, and dodged pedestrians to reach her sisters.

"So," Elizabeth said upon reaching her sisters, "where are we headed?"

"It's not far from here," Kitty piped.

"It's this way!" Lydia skipped off. Mary grumbled.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Argh, I'm hardly dressed for a party," Elizabeth mumbled angrily as she patted snow out of her hair and clothes.

"It's not a dress-up party, just a little celebration thing." Lydia shrugged off Elizabeth's concern, like she was shrugging off a boy's cliche declarations of love.

"But look at all these people, I hardly—" As Elizabeth was trying to straighten her severely under-dressy sweater, she rammed straight into a passing person.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I wasn't_—_" She looked up, and all words evaporated from her tongue. The person she'd run into—a stunningly handsome young man, with deepset green eyes and curly blond hair—smiled down at her.

"It's all right. In fact, it's great you ran into me." His smile widened as he watched Elizabeth blush and look down.

"Mr. Wickham!" Lydia squealed and wrapped her arms around him possessively. To her sisters, she announced, "This is George Wickham, a Marine who just stopped by at Hertfordshire."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Wickham." Elizabeth mumbled.

"Pleasure's all mine. And these are your sisters, Lydia?" Mr. Wickham asked, glancing over each sister.

"Yes, all of them. This is Jane, Mary, Elizabeth, and—you already know Kitty."

"Pleased to meet all of you," Mr. Wickham addressed them all.

The rest of the party, which was a full hour, seemed to Elizabeth only five minutes, in the breathtaking company of Mr. Wickham. He was all wit and smiles, and his jokes were never tiresome. When the time came to leave, he offered to walk all five sisters home, to the open delight of Lydia and the secret delight of Elizabeth.

Before they reached the Bennet's home, Jane squinted down the street and exclaimed, "Look! There's Mr. Bingley. Lizzy, quick, hide me—"

Too late. Mr. Bingley spotted them, and walked right up to them, smiling widely, Mr. Darcy trailing behind. "What a coincidence! I was just coming down to your house."

"Let's walk together!" Lydia squealed, and she immediately took up all of Mr. Bingley's attention, battering him with her torturous anticipation for his party.

Elizabeth turned to Mr. Wickham, intending to tell him who Mr. Bingley was, but found herself intruding upon a deathly staredown between Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy. She looked at one, then the other, and finally decided to turn away and pretend to have seen nothing.

As they ambled along, Elizabeth drew Mr. Wickham to the tail of the parade. "Is there something going on between you and Mr. Darcy?"

"So you saw our cold exchange."

"I don't know how everyone else missed it."

Mr. Wickham chuckled. "Mr. Darcy and I were actually childhood friends. His father treated me like a son. We were both with there when the late Mr. Darcy died, so we were both there to see Mr. Darcy's will. I was to be alloted 150,000 dollars, but Darcy pointedly gave the money to someone else."

Elizabeth's breath hitched. "He what? How could he?"

"I think it was jealousy. I was, after all, his father's favorite, despite the fact that I wasn't even blood-related to the Darcy family."

Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy's back. "I can't believe...even if he was jealous of you, wouldn't he have honored his father's wishes?"

"I thought so too."

"That's..." Elizabeth shook her head. "That's terrible. I can't believe...that's terrible!"

"I wanted to be a preacher, a man of the church, but I didn't have the means to afford such an education. When I asked Darcy for money—if not to honor his father's wishes, then to honor our friendship—he refused. So here I am, a Marine soldier."

"I...I'm so sorry. When I first met Mr. Darcy, I knew that he was pompous and aloof, but I never realized—so much _jealousy_—"

"It's too bad. Darcy and I were such close friends when we were children. We genuinely believed ourselves to be blood brothers at one point. To think that it would all come to this..."

Elizabeth seethed at Mr. Darcy's back, and Mr. Wickham watched on with a satisfied smile.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Mr. Bingley spent a good amount of time at their home, talking solely to Jane. As soon as the visitors left, while Mrs. Bennet was squealing with Lydia and Kitty about how ravishingly handsome Mr. Wickham and Mr. Bingley were, Elizabeth sat Jane down and relayed to her everything Mr. Wickham said.

Jane sat open-mouthed. "I knew Mr. Darcy wasn't exactly pleasant, but to go this far—"

"It's unbelievable!" Elizabeth paced in front of Jane, aggravated.

"I don't believe it. Mr. Darcy is not the greatest of men, but I don't believe him so evil. There must have been some misunderstanding, or—"

"There can't be. With Mr. Darcy's pompousness, it's hard to tell how far he'd go."

"I still don't believe it. How could a man like Mr. Bingley bear to stay around someone like that? And to call him 'closest friend'?"

"I'm not sure. Maybe Mr. Bingley doesn't know about what Mr. Darcy did. Anyway, I invited Mr. Wickham to Mr. Bingley's party—"

"You did?" Jane exclaimed. "But what if he sees Mr. Darcy? Do you think they can refrain from fighting a second time?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth replied distantly.

Just then, Mr. Bennet knocked on the door and stuck his head into the room. "Can I interrupt for a second?"

"Sure, Dad. Something wrong?"

"No, just telling you that we're to have a short-notice visitor. A clergyman cousin of mine, Mr. William Collins. If I die, he is to inherit my property, you know."

"Oh. Yes, you've told us of him. He's coming? When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Whaat?" Jane and Elizabeth both exclaimed.

"I'm not sure exactly why he's coming—his letter was very strange—but we'll get that out of him sooner or later. Maybe he just wants to meet me. We've never met, Mr. Collins and I, you know." Mr. Bennet sighed. "Your mother is throwing a fit downstairs right now, trying to come up with a menu for tomorrow night's dinner. Better go down there and comfort her before she brings down the house." And with that, Mr. Bennet left.

"Mr. Collins coming by so suddenly?" Jane wondered out loud. "I wonder what he could want."

"We'll have to wait until tomorrow, I guess."

* * *

**A/N:** End of chapter five. Two updates in one day—howdaya like that? XD

So yeah. PLEASE REVIEW!

-Sanded Silk-


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter six. I don't know how much longer I can hold out in school. It's...too...much.../drowns/ Wish me luck in school! And sorry if updates are coming too slowly for your taste, I'm reeeally loaded down with schoolwork right now.

**Disclaimer: Just a formality. Just a formality.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

There was a sharp knock on the door early next morning, while the family was still rumpled and sleepy-eyed. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Mrs. Bennet stifled a yawn as she opened the front door, and studied the stranger with new interest.

The stranger—a short, wiry man, with a serious, self-important, woebegone face—stood at the door, his arms piled high with books, a wide-brimmed hat shadowing his forehead. "Mr. Collins, at your service."

"Oh." Mrs. Bennet's interested face dropped like a stone. "Mr. William Collins. Mr. Bennet's cousin, I presume."

"Yes ma'am. And you are...?"

"Mrs. Bennet."

"What a pleasure to meet you." He glanced down at his hands. "I would offer you a proper handshake, but..."

Mrs. Bennet forced herself to smile. "Why don't you come in, sir?"

"Thank you." Mr. Collins stepped into the hallway, and looked around admiringly, as if already imagining everything to be his. Mrs. Bennet watched his wandering gaze with acid resentment.

"Dear? Who was at the—" Mr. Bennet called, walking into the hallway, and stopped short when he saw the stranger.

The stranger stepped forward. "You must be Mr. Bennet. I am Mr. William Collins, your cousin." He ventured to bow, remembering just in time that he had a stack of books in his arms.

"Ah, Mr. Collins," Mr. Bennet said, striding forward to help Mr. Collins with his load. "Welcome to my humble home. Please, dear, show him to the dining room. He must be hungry."

The five daughters stopped talking and looked up upon the arrival of Mr. Collins.

"How are you all," Mr. Collins said, bowing grandly. "I am Mr. William Collins, the cousin of your father. I—"

"Your name is William? Not _Fitz_william?" Lydia cut in.

"Er, yes, my name is William. Not Fitzwilliam."

"Oh. Okay. You see, we know a Fitzwilliam, so I was just wondering—**"**

"_Lydia__,_" Jane whispered, poking Lydia in the arm. Lydia jumped, and was silent.

Mrs. Bennet ignored her daughter's misbehavior. "Mr. Collins, why don't you sit here and let me take your gloves. Would you enjoy a plate of waffles and a glass of milk? How about a bowl of boiled potatoes?"

"That would be very nice, thank you."

Mrs. Bennet left for the food. There was a long, awkward silence.

Finally, Mrs. Bennet returned, balancing a plate of waffles, a glass of milk, and a bowl of boiled potatoes in her arms. She set them down before Mr. Collins, and he dug in with a ridiculously pompous manner. Elizabeth watched him as he delicately placed a piece of potato on his tongue, and pretended to wipe her mouth to hide her silent laughter.

"What excellent potatoes," Mr. Collins commented. "It has been a long time since I've had such an exemplary vegetable.

_An exemplary vegetable?_ Elizabeth pressed her napkin to her face.

"And to which of my lovely nieces do I owe the compliments?"

"It was Elizabeth who cooked this morning," Mrs. Bennet replied. Elizabeth tried to disguise her horror by simpering. Mr. Collins simpered right back.

"These waffles are also absolutely delectable. And the milk is just at the right temperature. Miss Elizabeth, I must congratulate you on a meal well cooked."

"Tha—Thank you, sir."

Mr. Bennet walked in, and sat back down at his place at the table. Before popping a section of waffle into his mouth, he asked Mr. Collins, "So cousin, why are you visiting us so suddenly and on such a short notice?"

"Well, as you must clearly remember, my dear cousin, you and my father were not...er, on the best of terms."

Everyone watched as Mr. Bennet's face darkened.

"What a blunt observation, dear cousin."

"I'd rather not waste my breath on circumlocution," Mr. Collins replied coolly as he wiped imaginary crumbs off his chin. "As I was saying, since you have refused to talk with my father for such a lamentably long period of time, I've taken it upon myself to be peacemaker between you two."

"Peacemaker?"

"Of course, dear cousin. As a parish rector, I hold family with utmost regard. I have wished for a long time to reconcile my family with the Bennets, but I always found a reason to duck this responsibility. Just a few days ago, I finally decided to follow through with my ideas, and wrote you a letter telling you of my arrival."

"And how do you plan to reconcile your family with my own?"

"Time well spent together, dear cousin. Father is ready to forgive you; all I need is your readiness to forgive him."

A long staredown ensued.

Finally, Mr. Bennet speared another piece of waffle with his fork. "So, cousin," he asked, suddenly conversational, "how do you make a living in Kent? You are a parish rector, you mentioned?"

Mr. Collins visibly puffed up. "In fact I am. I was employed by the most admirable woman I have ever met—Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Kent. Her ladyship kindly bestowed upon me my humble parsonagem and furnished me with anything I needed. She invites me often to her mansion to dine and talk. We have a rather amiable relationship, I must say. And she visits me often, graces my humble abode with her regal presence, to inspect my living and to suggest improvements. Just last week, she suggested an utterly genius addition: shelves in the closet! I cannot believe I overlooked such an improvement. Shelves in the closet are very helpful, you see."

"So you are well off in life."

"You might say so." Pause. "And what do you do for a living, dear cousin?"

"I am the manager of a small ionsurance business."

"Ah. Insurance." Mr. Collins nodded condescendingly. Another pause.

Suddenly, Mr. Collins turned to Mrs. Bennet. "Mrs. Bennet, could you show me about the house please? I would like to see how my cousin is faring."

"Of course, sir." Under her breath: "You just want to scout out all our furniture, all our belongings, make a list of things you want to weed out..." Jane and Mary, who were sitting by her, focused intensely on their plates.

Once out of earshot, Mr. Collins stopped Mrs. Bennet.

"Mrs. Bennet," he said in a low voice, "I feel I must confess to you my true motives for visiting."

"Yes?" She asked, surprised.

"Recently, her ladyship Catherine de Bourgh insisted that I take a wife. She feels that every well-to-do man with a steady future should be in want of a wife. So my first thought was to come here, because I thought such an...an alliance with one of your daughters would be beneficial to...to both of...our families."

Mrs. Bennet stared at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Then: "Oooh! You want to take the ultimate step in reconciling my husband with your father and marry one of my daughters?"

"Yes, and I feel that it would give you security to know that one of your daughters is married to the man who is to inherit your home."

Mrs. Bennet could barely restrain herself, and had to take several breaths before replying.

"I would be very honored if you chose to marry one of my daughters. But you see, my eldest, Jane, is being courted by a gentleman already. But Elizabeth, my second eldest, is equal to my Jane in beauty and modesty, and intellect, and is in every aspect as desirable as Jane."

Mr. Collins peered into the kitchen, at Elizabeth's slim neck and high cheekbones. "Why yes, she is very beautiful indeed. So I have your permission to court Elizabeth?"

"Of..." Mrs. Bennet swallowed. "Of course."

They walked around the house for a bit, and returned to the dining room shortly.

At the table, Mrs. Bennet suddenly remembered. "Mr. Collins, tomorrow we are attending a party at Mr. Charles Bingley's new mansion. Since you are visiting with us, it is only proper that you attend the party as well."

Mr. Collins paused mid-chew, then swallowed his food. "That would be most wonderful, Mrs. Bennet. I shall have a chance to talk and dance with every one of my fair cousins, and...may I be so bold as to ask for your partnership in the first two dances, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth choked mightily on her mouthful of waffle, and had to be pounded on the back by Jane. "Thanks, Jane," she gasped. "I'm sorry, Mr. Collins, I don't think I heard correctly. You want to dance with _me_ for the first two numbers tomorrow night?"

"Of course."

"I..." Elizabeth didn't know how to refuse. He was here to reconcile with her father and perhaps mend their broken relationship; if she refused, she would hurt Mr. Collins. "I would be...honored to dance with you, Uncle." She emphasized "Uncle".

"That would be delightful." Mr. Collins simpered, and returned to his waffle. Elizabeth glanced at her food for a moment, realized that she'd lost all appetite, and excused herself in a hurry. Jane followed close behind, certain that her sister would need help suppressing her thoughts about the ridiculous Mr. Collins.

* * *

**A/N:** Soooo how was it? I know, this chapter is shorter than the others, but it's almost 11pm and I reeeally need to sleep. I'm completely blown.

Please review! Your reviews are the only good things happening in my life right now.

-Sanded Silk-


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter le seventh. I will do my best to twist up the dialogue/plot. XD

**Disclaimer: I don't have time for this.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

The evening of the party found the whole Bennet family at the Bingley mansion embarrassingly early (Lydia insisted on arriving a full thirty minutes early). After the luxurious meal, while Mr. Collins clung to Elizabeth's presence and waited eagerly for the first dance to begin, Elizabeth stayed as far as she could from him, allowing Jane to lead her all over the mansion. Once they even took refuge in the ladies' room, wanting to wait out the first two dances; but then, with a sigh, Elizabeth pointed out that Mr. Collins would just request whichever two dances came after they emerged from the ladies' room. Jane agreed, and they left, dejected.

"He's absolutely ridiculous. Absolutely _ridiculous_. I don't know why on earth he'd take any interest in me; we are complete opposites."

"Opposites attract, I guess."

"If that's so, then it must be one-sided."

"Too true."

Elizabeth spotted Mr. Collins, and steered sharp starboard. "I've got to find Mr. Wickham. He'll save me from Mr. Collins."

Lydia bounced up to them. "Elizabeth, Jane! You two look in such a hurry. Are you guys okay?"

"It's Mr. Collins. He—"

The bounce seeped out of Lydia's skirts. "Oh. Mr. Collins." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "He threatened to dance with us all, didn't he."

"Yes. But you and Kitty are lucky—he's already made it clear that he can't stand either of you."

"Of course! As soon as Kitty and I heard his blathering about exemplary potatoes, we made certain to be as ditzy and senseless as possible. We couldn't force Mary to join; she'd never lose her dignity, even for such a worthy cause." And with that, Lydia bounced away.

Elizabeth turned around, looking for Mr. Collins, but spotted Mr. Bingley instead. "Look, Jane, it's Mr. Bingley!" Jane's eyes widened. Before she could make a getaway, Mr. Bingley, as if signaled, turned his head their way and saw Jane. His mouth stretched into an involuntary smile, and he waded his way through the milling guests to reach them. Elizabeth gripped Jane's arm to keep her from running away.

"Jane, Elizabeth. I'm glad the two of you could make it to the party."

"We are too. This room is absolutely breathtaking, Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth replied automatically, smiling back. Jane stared resolutely at a curtain over Mr. Bingley's shoulder, and mumbled something in agreement.

"Thank you. My sister and I spent a lot of effort making this room presentable."

"If I recall correctly, Mr. Bingley, it was perfectly presentable when Jane and I were intruding on your privacy a few days ago."

"But it's much better now, isn't it? And the two of you were not intruding on anything, trust me."

"We must thank you again for letting us stay at your home."

"It was a pleasure." Mr. Bingley was staring at Jane.

Awkward silence.

Just as Elizabeth was about to suggest that Jane dance with Mr. Bingley, Mr. Bingley held out his hand to Jane. "Jane, would you...er, may I request the first dance?"

Red-cheeked Jane slowly shifted her eyes to stare at Mr. Bingley's shirt collar. "I'd be tappy hoo. I mean, happy to. Sorry. I—"

"It's all right." Mr. Bingley struggled to suppress his laughter, and Jane looked ready to jump out a window. Elizabeth smiled at Mr. Bingley, and quickly led Jane away.

"Elizabeth, I said 'tappy hoo'."

"I know."

"'Tappy hoo'."

"Yes."

"'_Tappy_—'"

"_Jane_. Do you want to...er, go to the bathroom and get ready? The first dance should be soon—"

"That would be...great. Yes." Jane let go of Elizabeth's arm and sprinted for the bathroom.

Mary materialized at Elizabeth's elbow, making Elizabeth jump.

"Mary! Where have you been all night? You should find someone to dance with once the first dance starts—"

Mary interrupted her sister calmly. "Mr. Wickham is not coming tonight, Lizzy."

"...What?"

"Lydia was talking to one of his friends. Apparently, last-minute business is keeping Mr. Wickham away tonight."

"...Really. Oh."

Mary looked at her sister sympathetically. "He has explaining to do, doesn't he?"

"...Yes, I suppose so."

"Clench your teeth and dance the first two dances with Mr. Collins, and attach yourself to someone else. Forget Mr. Collins. Forget Mr. Wickham."

"I shall happily forget Mr. Collins, but Mr. Wickham—"

"He reeks of dishonesty, Lizzy."

"What?"

"He is pleasant, but something about his manner makes me think that he's just trifling with you."

"Just trifling with me? But—"

"Just don't get too close to him, Lizzy. I've heard some interesting things about him. Like how much money he owes different people from gambling, and how he has to keep moving to run away from his debtors."

"_Gambling_?"

Mary didn't reply, but pointed at something over Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth turned around, and with rising terror, saw Mr. Collins strutting his way to her. Elizabeth whirled back around, but Mary was gone.

Mr. Collins stopped unnervingly close to Elizabeth. "There you are."

Elizabeth slowly turned around. "Mr. Collins!" Forced smile.

"Yes. The first dance is starting soon, Miss Elizabeth. Would you mind?" He offered her his hand. Elizabeth gingerly took it, relieved that she'd decided to wear gloves, and he led her to the dance floor in a way that reminded her of a peacock showing off its tail feathers.

Elizabeth spotted Jane, and broke away from Mr. Collins to run to her sister.

"The first dance is starting!" Elizabeth whisper-shouted.

"I know!" Jane was still red in the face.

Elizabeth heard Mr. Collins pointedly clear his throat behind her. _Help me_, she mouthed to her sister. But her sister was already being led away by Mr. Bingley.

The first dance, it seemed, was a group dance. The ladies lined up one one side, and the men opposite to them. As the music began to play, Elizabeth recognized the music and began to dance the correct steps. To her utter embarrassment, Mr. Collins didn't seem to know what he was doing at all, and incessantly bumped into other people. Then, to her utter despair, Elizabeth saw Mr. Darcy appear at the edge of the dance floor to watch the dancing. She swallowed, held her head high, and went through the steps as pointedly as she could.

During the second dance, she could not stand Mr. Collins' silent thumping around, and twirled out of her place, switching places with another random woman. The woman, confused, looked at Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins looked around, confused, found Elizabeth, and—with profound ungracefulness—ran after her.

"It's not very polite," he puffed, "to disappear from your partner."

"I'm sorry, I confused this dance with another."

"And what dance might that be?"

"I'm not really sure, to be honest."

"Ah."

Elizabeth turned away and, as she was dancing, talked with Jane. Jane welcomed the conversation—anything to escape Mr. Bingley's constant attention.

"Miss Elizabeth—"

Elizabeth talked louder. "So at the Coffee Nook the other day—"

"Miss Elizabeth—"

"—she said she had to get rid of Eddy, though I can't imagine why—"

Mr. Collins stopped mid-step. "Miss Elizabeth," he said with such seriousness that Elizabeth stopped and looked at him.

"It is..." Mr. Collins faltered. "It is my intention, if I may be so bold, to remain close to you throughout the night."

_Remain close...remain close?_ Elizabeth stared at him, open-mouthed. _Remain close..!_

Without another word, Elizabeth left the dance floor, not even noticing as she rushed by a slightly-amused Mr. Darcy.

Jane found Elizabeth in the ladies' room.

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth stared at herself in the mirror and didn't respond.

"Mom's not happy with you."

"I don't care."

"Mr. Collins seeks compensation for the last half of the second dance that you deprived him of."

"I don't care."

"Would you grant him so much?"

"I can't think of a colorful way to say 'No' right now, so I'll just stick with 'No'."

"But Lizzy—"

"But what?"

"Mr. Collins is to inherit all of our property if Dad dies. If you refuse him so coldly and hurt him, he won't treat us well if—God forbid—something does happen to Dad."

"I'd rather live on the streets and be treaded on daily by Darcy."

Jane stared at her sister for a long time. Elizabeth stared back.

Finally, Jane spoke. "Mr. Darcy is looking for you."

"What?"

As soon as Elizabeth stepped out of the ladies' room, she saw Mr. Darcy and walked up to him. _Of course he's going to bash me about Mr. Collins, and then he'll bash me about mymy intruding upon his privacy a few days ago, and then—_

"Mr. Darcy?"

He turned around, and she was almost lost in the two chips of glass that were his eyes. "Miss Elizabeth. May I have the next dance?"

Elizabeth was nearly blown back into the ladies' room. She was about to refuse, but the thought of having Mr. Collins "remaining close to her throughout the night" made her want to vomit.

So she bowed her head. "You may."

Mr. Darcy nodded, as if to himself, then bowed slightly to her and walked away.

Jane was beside her. "What did he want?"

"He asked me to dance with him."

"I told you that he could be interested in you."

"I don't believe it."

"But his asking you to dance—"

"And what about the party before? When he called me 'not pretty enough'?"

"Then maybe something changed, during the evening after the last party, or during our visit—"

"It's not possible."

"But you are dancing with him either way."

"...Yes."

"So get going! The musicians are taking their places."

"Aren't you dancing with Mr. Bingley?"

Jane blushed. "Yes, he asked me for the next dance. Mom was beside herself."

"I can imagine."

"Let's go over together."

Elizabeth nodded, took her sister's hand, and headed for the dance floor with a pounding heart.

It was another group dance, but the music—mournful, slow violin—was a stark contrast to the lively music being played before. Elizabeth recognized the dance, and was relieved to see that Mr. Darcy seemed to know what he was doing as well. Slightly comforted, she allowed Mr. Darcy to take her hand as they danced.

Elizabeth felt the need to say something—_anything—_and finally decided on "I love this dance."

"It's a welcome diversion after the past twenty minutes of leaping around crazily."

Silence.

"Now," Elizabeth prompted, "It's your turn to say something. Something about the size of the room, or the number of couples. And perhaps I'll talk about how private parties are so much better than public ones."

"Do you always make an effort to converse while dancing?"

Elizabeth looked at Mr. Darcy as they stepped around each other. "No. I think it's much more pleasant and polite to be taciturn and unsociable."

Mr. Darcy's jaw hardened.

Elizabeth pushed on. "Don't you think so?"

He changed the subject. "Do you and your sisters often walk wherever you need to go?"

"Of course we do. For the exercise, and for meeting new people." He twirled her, and caught her flawlessly. She continued. "When I met you, I had the pleasure of forming a new acquaintance." She knew from his stare that he had detected her sarcasm, which actually surprised her. Most men, while dancing, couldn't seem to focus on anything else and answered her sarcasm-slathered compliments with distant "Mm"s and "Ah"s.

"Mr. Wickham," he said, "is blessed with wonderful manners, so he has a talent for making new friends."

He twirled her again, caught her again, released her hand. Continued. "But his ability to retain them is regrettably lacking."

"I am aware that he and you were once friends. Is the damage irreversible?"

Mr. Darcy stopped cold, and held Elizabeth still to glare at her. "It is. Why do you ask?"

"To make out who you are."

"And what have you found out?"

"Not very much at all. I've heard so many different things about you that I don't know what to think." Elizabeth held Mr. Darcy's intense stare as steadily as she could.

"Well," he finally said, releasing her and resuming the dance, "I hope all will be clear to you sooner or later."

Elizabeth didn't know quite what to say next, and remained silent throughout the whole of the dance. But curiously, she no longer felt abashed to meet Mr. Darcy's eyes, and stared straight into them whenever she could. He returned her stares, not missing a step, not fumbling a catch. All too soon, the dance ended. While the rest of the couples talked and laughed and hinted at dancing together again, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth refused to be the first to look away.

Finally, Elizabeth bowed her head and curtsied, knowing that Mr. Darcy would see the sarcasm in the act of politeness. Without a word, she turned on her heel and left.

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**A/N**: Sooo, yeah. Seventh chapter. Suuuuuuuper looong, too. XD

REVIEW! love you all.

-Sanded Silk-


	8. Chapter 8

Eighth chapter. Oh my gosh, it's only been three days of school and I'm already staying up til twelve. Aaarrrrggh.

**Disclaimer: ALALALALALALALALA—**

-Sanded Silk-

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Elizabeth mindlessly chewed a mouthful of scrambled egg at breakfast the next morning. Lydia had been in charge of cooking, so of course, the eggs were slightly burnt and the milk hadn't been heated up at all and the toast was mysteriously soggy. Jane looked over at Elizabeth frequently. Since Jane hadn't heard any of Elizabeth's conversation with Mr. Darcy, Jane didn't know at all how to call Elizabeth out of her pensiveness.

Jane gently tapped on Elizabeth's door a few minutes after Elizabeth mumbled something and left the table. Sure enough, Elizabeth was in her room, cuddled up next to the window, staring out into the snow as if turned to stone.

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth didn't reply.

"Lizzy?" Jane tried again. Still no reply. Jane walked up to Elizabeth and touched her shoulder. Elizabeth jumped violently.

"Jane! Oh my gosh, you scared me. Why didn't you say anything when you came in?"

"Lizzy, tell me what happened last night."

Elizabeth sighed, and looked back out the window.

"Please, Lizzy? You know that I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not worried about your telling anyone," Elizabeth replied. "I just...I don't know how to say this."

"Please try? I know you're suffering alone."

Elizabeth fiddled with her collar. _Suffering alone._

"All right," Elizabeth sighed finally. "I...don't know what to think...about Mr..."

"Darcy?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean, you don't know what to think?"

"All those things Mr. Wickham told me...I believe that Mr. Darcy is capable of them."

"This is what you've always thought."

"Yes, but I..." Elizabeth looked back out the window again, chewing her lip, as if she'd forgotten a line in a play. "Something tells me that I'm wrong."

"Something?"

"Intuition, I guess."

"But you have no reason to think of Mr. Darcy kindly."

"No, I don't."

"Then where did these thoughts come from? What did he say to you last night?"

"Not just last night," Elizabeth said. "When we were at Mr. Bingley's house, while you were sick, Mr. Darcy told me that he had a hard time forgiving people. He said that his good opinion once lost was lost forever."

"And?"

"I don't know! It's just that I feel like—somewhere, somehow—Mr. Darcy's claim and Mr. Wickham's claim don't...don't match, I guess."

"So one of them is lying?"

"...Yes."

"What did Mr. Darcy say last night?"

"He said that Mr. Wickham's friendliness makes him a magnet of affection, but his abilities to retain his friendships are not so strong."

"Implying that somehow, Mr. Wickham had wronged Mr. Darcy."

"Yes. But Mr. Wickham told me that _Mr. Darcy_ had wronged _him_."

Jane was silent for a moment. "Lizzy, I think it's strange that Mr. Wickham would tell you such a personal affair the day he meets you."

Elizabeth finally looked away from the snowy scenery to stare at her sister.

"Then—"

Footsteps clomped up the staircase and down the hall, and the door was flung open. Mr. Collins stepped in. Jane and Elizabeth whipped their heads around to stare at him. He bowed.

"I'm sorry for interrupting what I'm sure was an important conversation, but I'd like to request the privilege of speaking to Miss Elizabeth alone."

Jane looked at her sister, a question in her eyes, but Elizabeth was just as clueless. Slowly, Jane exited the room. As soon as she closed the door behind herself, she ran to the staircase, avoiding the creaky spots (which Elizabeth took the time to discover and map out when they were children) and fetched her mother.

In Elizabeth's room, Mr. Collins had walked up to Elizabeth. Elizabeth had stood up, and was looking at him with great confusion. "Is there something wrong, Mr. Collins? You look...a little ill, quite frankly."

"I'm quite all right. Thank you for your concern." Mr. Collins paused for a moment, then held up one of his hands. In it was clutched a single nondescript flower, which he handed silently to Elizabeth. Elizabeth stared at it with a sinking stomach, and when she realized that it was coming closer and closer to her, she turned her face away. Mr. Collins paused, and set the flower aside.

"I am aware that this may be sudden, Miss Elizabeth, but I must tell you my real reason for coming to visit your family."

Elizabeth was silent. Mr. Collins continued.

"Her ladyship, Catherine de Bourgh, upon seeing that I was finely settled with a respectable job, requested that I take on a wife, for she felt that every well-to-do man must be in want of a wife."

Elizabeth could hardly interpret what Mr. Collins was trying to get at.

"When she requested such of me," Mr. Collins said, "I came directly here, for I felt that a marriage between myself and one of my cousin's daughters would be beneficial both to me and to my cousin's family. I am to inherit your father's property, you know."

Pause.

"Almost as soon as I arrived, I singled you out, Miss Elizabeth, as the companion of my life."

Elizabeth turned her face back to glare at him. "Mr. Collins—"

He held up his hand. "I am convinced that you would make me the most happiest man in the world, and I you. I assure you, the...violence of my passion for you is unquestionable."

"Mr. Collins!"

"And know that however you spend my money will not deserve a word of reproach from me. And Lady Catherine will undoubtedly be pleased with your beauty and your...your modesty."

"Mr. Collins, I haven't consented." Elizabeth backed away from Mr. Collins, but froze when he fell to his knees.

"I know that young ladies of...high stature...tend to make their suitors...shall I say, repeatedly solicit for their hands before accepting—"

"Sir, I am—ah—honored to be the object of your—affections—but I cannot accept you. You can, in no way, make me happy, and I am completely convinced that _I_ am the last woman who will make _you_ happy."

"I know that your initial refusal is nothing more than a...a female tendency. Therefore, I must conclude that you seek to augment my affections by torturing me."

Elizabeth bristled. Now, there was _no way_ she'd accept his proposal. "Mr. Collins, I am not the type of girl who manipulates the feelings of others for my own amusement. You have quite insulted me by assuming me to be capable of such cruelty."

"Miss Elizabeth—"

"Mr. Collins. I will not accept you." Elizabeth looked him in the eye, making sure that he could not misunderstand her words. When he was unquestionably speechless—and done—she marched to her door and banged it open, only to find her whole family pressed against it, eavesdropping. Barely noticing at all, Elizabeth swept past them. In the front hall, she pulled on her boots and coat and ran from her house as fast as she could.

She put her feet on autopilot as she allowed her mind to soar to the clouds, and faithfully, her feet took her to the Coffee Nook. She sat down at a booth and tried to calm down, but Mr. Collins' face would not leave her mind. So she sat there, all inner turmoil.

Mrs. Bennet was sure to be upset upon learning that Elizabeth had insulted the next destined owner of Mr. Bennet's property. If something were to happen to Mr. Bennet, it was almost certain now that Elizabeth, her sisters, and her mother would be asked—if not forced—to leave their home, with Mr. Collins smirking from their doorstep.

So now what?

One thing was for sure. No matter how dire the consequences, Elizabeth promised herself to never change her mind on refusing Mr. Collins. Such a ridiculous man, with such ridiculous premature assumptions about her character. Her cheeks still flamed with anger when she recalled his assuming her to be manipulative. _Of all ways to capture a woman's heart—!_

Her reverie was interrupted by a quiet, concerned voice.

"Miss Elizabeth?"

Thinking it was Mr. Collins, Elizabeth snapped her head up, ready to bite and snarl. But she was caught completely offguard when she found herself staring at Mr. Darcy.

"Mr. Darcy!"

"I was just walking by outside, when I happened to look in and saw you sitting here by yourself. You look out of sorts."

"...Yes." Elizabeth looked down at her fisted hands, slightly embarrassed.

"Is everything all right?"

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"Are you sure?"

Elizabeth looked back up to examine Mr. Darcy's expression. This sudden display of concern was very disorienting, especially after the episode with Mr. Collins.

"Mr. Darcy, surely you must know by now that there is nothing in the world I can't handle." She managed a weak smile. He looked a little confused, but smiled back, and stood there uncertainly.

Elizabeth felt too worn out to rave at Mr. Darcy, so she gestured at the seat across from her table. "Would you like to sit down? Have something to drink? I work here, so I can get you a discount." Pause. "Not that a big-shot business owner like you would need a discount."

Mr. Darcy sat down across from her. "No, thank you. You look like you could use something warm, though."

"I do?" Elizabeth smiled nervously, fumbling with the buttons of her coat. "I just needed a moment away from...from my house. That's all. I'll be returning soon."

Mr. Darcy nodded shortly.

Pause.

Elizabeth watched him surreptitiously as he looked around at the Coffee Nook, wondering what he thought of her now. She felt sure that she was the first person he'd met who had to work such a mundane, low-tier job to make a living. She smirked to herself.

Her smirk disappeared when her mind jumped from low-tier jobs to Mr. Wickham. Something about the whole business of Mr. Wickham and Mr. Darcy tasted off deep in her throat. One of them was lying, hiding something from her. But she couldn't figure anything out, and she didn't know how to approach it with Mr. Darcy without chasing him off.

Jane's observation rang in her ears. Why would Mr. Wickham confide so easily in her on the first day of their meeting? The more and more she thought about it, the more and more Jane's observation made sense. But how did that affect what Mr. Wickham had told her about his misfortunes? Were they still to be trusted?

Elizabeth sighed deeply, then realized that her breathing had slowed and she was calm again. Oddly, her problem with Mr. Collins seemed far away, even though he was probably sulking only two blocks down. She bowed her head, laughing silently to herself.

Mr. Darcy noticed. "Is something wrong? Did I do something?"

Elizabeth waved his questions away, collecting herself. "It's nothing. I just calmed down, and realized how ridiculous my troubles are. I think I should go home now." She rose. "Are you sure you don't want to drink anything, Mr. Darcy?"

"Are you sure _you_ don't?"

Elizabeth looked carefully at Mr. Darcy's face, and saw only confused concern and cautiousness. She sighed—a long, tired sigh—and shook her head, smiling. "I'm all right. Thank you for checking on me, Mr. Darcy."

"It was nothing."

She waited a moment, wondering if he'd get up and leave as well instead of sitting alone and looking like a loser, but he made no movement to stand up. So she left.

As she was walking home, taking her time, she ran into Charlotte.

"Oh, Lizzy, I was looking for you."

"Is something wrong?"

"Well, just one thing. I was kind of relieved when your father told me that you'd left—I didn't want to tell you with your family within ear-shot."

"What is it?"

"Well," Charlotte said, glancing around before continuing. "I was just thinking about Jane and Mr. Bingley. Mr. Bingley really does love Jane, you know? Anyone could tell. He thinks that she's beautiful, kind, intelligent, graceful, among other things."

"Yes?"

"The thing is, Jane isn't showing nearly as much interest in him. I have no doubt that she likes him too, but that's because I've known her since we were toddlers. And of course you know, because you're the only one she is completely honest with."

"What's wrong with her being modest?"

"If she is serious about him, she has to—er, you know—egg him on."

"...What?"

"I mean, she has to be more affectionate. Sheh as to show more interest, flirt with him more, look him in the face more. Let him know that she likes him as well."

"Why? She's such a shy person! She'd never be able to—"

"I know, but _he_ doesn't know her well enough to know that she'd refrain from showing affection, no matter how strong the affection was. If he thinks that she doesn't like him back, he'll probably end his pursuance of her."

"You're saying that she has to be more forward with him in order to completely win him."

"Yes."

"You came out here just to tell me that?"

"Well, it's a boring morning, I must say."

Elizabeth giggled. "Charlotte, thanks for your advice, but I don't think Jane is anywhere near comfortable showing affection. She's just too...well, too modest. Too shy."

"But at least tell her? Make her understand? Because it would be a tragedy if he were to leave her without knowing that she really does like him."

Elizabeth sighed. "All right, Charlotte. Sure you don't have anything else to say?"

Charlotte hesitated. "Well, there is one other thing."

"What is it?"

"Mr. Collins is at my house right now, practically bawling his eyes out."

"_What?_"

"I'm still not exactly sure what happened—he won't say—but I'm doing my best to calm him down. He's scaring my siblings, you know—"

"I refused to be his future wife this morning, that's what happened."

Charlotte stared. "He proposed to you?"

"Yes."

"So suddenly?"

"Yes."

"What were his motives?"

"He said that Lady Catherine de Bourgh ordered him to get a wife, so he came down to my father's home, wanting to marry one of us five Miss Bennets. He said that he thought such a marriage would benefit both him and my family. But I think he's absolutely ridiculous. I don't think I'd be able to live under the same roof as him for more than a week without going crazy. So I refused."

"That's it?"

"Well, when I first refused, he accused me of being manipulative, and said that I was essentially trying to force him to beg me. And that got me angry, so I fired off some sharp words and left him on his knees. Literally."

"...Oh dear."

"I'm sorry that he ran to your house. I'm not sure why he'd run to _your_ house, of all places—"

"I'm not sure either. But we are neighbors, and I suppose he just wanted to get out of your house for the meantime."

"Which suits me. But I'm sorry that he's causing you trouble."

"It's really not that much. We got him into the guest room so that he could bawl his eyes out in privacy, instead of scaring my little siblings."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not a problem. I'll send him back over as soon as I think he's ready to return."

"Thank you so much, Char. I owe you a big one."

"It's nothing. You don't owe me anything. I'm on my way to the grocer's. Mom wants peaches, for some reason. _Peaches_ at this time of year?"

Elizabeth shrugged, and they parted ways.

As she got closer to her house, Elizabeth watched her house approach with a mixture of dread and resolution. She took a deep breath, braced herself for the tirade that she'd surely get from her mother, and opened the door.

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**A/N:** I realized that the chapter was getting a little long, so I just decided to cut it off there. XP

Another update, guys! And you all know the drill now:

PLEASE REVIEW!

-Sanded Silk-


	9. Chapter 9

Eighth chapterrrrr. =D

Reviews are more than welcome.

**Disclaimer: [file has been destroyed]**

-Sanded Silk-

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"Lizzy, now you've done it!" Mrs. Bennet's screechy voice followed Elizabeth throughout the house. "You've thrown away our futures for your own shallow-minded interests, you stupid girl! If Jane had been the one Mr. Collins asked, Jane wouldn't have hesitated to accept. Am I right, Jane dearie?"

"...Yes, Mom."

"See, Lizzy? You should be more like your mature, demure, thoughtful—"

Lizzy spun around on her heel, stopping so suddenly that Mrs. Bennet nearly slammed right into her.

"No matter what you say, Mother, you can't make me marry Mr. Collins."

"But you—"

"I hate him, and now he undoubtedly hates me, so there is nothing to be done."

"But—"

"I wish you'd stop saying 'But this' and 'But that' and leave me alone!"

Mrs. Bennet stared at her rebellious, hopelessly misbehaved daughter. "If I cannot persuade you, then I'm sure your father can."

"_No one_ can, I promise you."

Mrs. Bennet didn't take her eyes off Elizabeth as she raised her voice to call her husband. "Mr. Bennet? Mr. Bennet! _Mr. Bennet_! MR. BENNET—"

"What is it?" Mr. Bennet appeared around a corner, punching out each word.

"Come here, Mr. Bennet, and drill some sense into your daughter. Mr. Collins proposed to Lizzy this morning, and Lizzy refused! She put her own selfish interests before her love for her family, and now she's doomed us all to live on the streets if you die. She has no mercy on my nerves, absolutely none at all!"

Mr. Bennet stared at Elizabeth. "Is this true? Mr. Collins—?"

"Yes, Dad."

"And you refused him?"

"Yes."

Mr. Bennet folded his arms and stared at Elizabeth for another moment. She couldn't read his expression, which didn't bode well, so she looked down at the ground. Only her father could make her feel cowed—her mother only made her furious and embarrassed.

"Well, Mr. Bennet, say something!"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Tell her that you insist upon her marring Mr. Collins!"

Jane looked between her mother, her father, and her sister, worried but not knowing what to say.

Mr. Bennet sighed finally. "It seems that your mother wants you to marry Mr. Collins, Lizzy."

"Well, Lizzy, it seems that today you will be making a choice."

Elizabeth swallowed. Mrs. Bennet leaned forward, listening with a gleam in her eyes.

"From this day on, Lizzy, you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never speak to you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and..."

"And?" Mrs. Bennet prompted, impatient.

Mr. Bennet heaved another sigh. "And I will never speak to you again if you do."

The air in the room changed, but no one could tell exactly how.

"Mr. Bennet!" Mrs. Bennet's mouth had fallen agape, and she was staring at her husband with a mixture of betrayal and pain.

"My dear, Mr. Collins is utterly ridiculous. I wouldn't have any of my daughters married to a man like him."

"But...But Mr. Bennet!"

"Yes, my dear."

Jane tip-toed quickly out of the room. Elizabeth followed, though not as quietly, and stopped to put her hand on her father's arm. "Thank you, Dad," she said, fully meaning it. And she left.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Elizabeth was back at the Coffee Nook in moments, with Jane, eagerly gulping down a huge cup of hot chocolate.

"I feel a lot better now."

Jane smiled. "Just because you got Dad on your side?"

"Yeah, kind of. You know how after I refused Mr. Collins, I ran out of the house?"

"Mm-hm?"

"I came here. And do you know who I met here?"

Jane took a tiny sip of her coffee. "Who?"

"Mr. Darcy."

"Really? What was he doing here? I mean, other than getting food—"

"Actually, he wasn't getting food. He was just walking by the store, and saw me sitting alone. I guess I looked pretty upset, because he was concerned enough to come in and ask me if I was okay."

"Really? He did that?"

"Yeah. Not at all the Mr. Darcy who completely put me down at the Meryton party, huh?"

"Yes, and definitely not the same one who cheated Mr. Wickham."

Elizabeth thoughtfully sipped at her hot chocolate. Just as she looked up, she saw a familiar face enter the Coffee Nook.

"Char! Come over here. How's Mr. Collins doing?"

Charlotte spotted them and walked over. "I don't think he's in a very stable state of mind, Lizzy. He proposed to me."

"Really? That's hilarious—"

"I accepted."

Dead silence.

"_What_?"

"I...I accepted. He and I are—are engaged."

"You took advantage of his unstable state of mind and—"

"No, Lizzy, I was kidding about that. He told me that I was the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth, and that I had the kindest heart of all, and that I am the only person who's ever listened to him." Charlotte's face got redder and redder.

Elizabeth slowly stood up. "Are you just taking advantage of the fact that he's to inherit my home? You want to be mistress of my home—of me. Is that right?"

Charlotte's face drained of color. "No, Lizzy, I—"

Jane stood up and quickly got between Elizabeth and Charlotte. "Lizzy, calm down. I know that Charlotte can't have such ulterior motives for marrying Mr. Collins."

"She's right, Lizzy. I have no money, no prospects—I'm unattractive, I'm plain, I'm unintelligent—I have no _future_. No man would ever want me. So when Mr. Collins, the favorite of Lady Catherine de Bourgh—Lady Catherine de Bourgh!—proposed to me...I couldn't say no. I just couldn't."

"You'll hate yourself for it, Charlotte. He'll drive you crazy. He's ridiculous."

"I've never been the romantic type, Lizzy. You know that. I just want a comfortable home, and protection. I want to be able to say that I accomplished something in my life."

Elizabeth wanted to say so many things, so many burning, acid-sharp things, but she bit her tongue to staunch the flow. She couldn't insult her long friend, and let someone like Mr. Collins come between them. Still, the betrayal cut deep.

Charlotte continued. "I'm to move with Mr. Collins back to his home in Kent tomorrow. I hope..." She cut short for a moment. "I hope that you'll visit me sometime, Lizzy. I'll need your constant communication to survive."

Elizabeth barely managed a nod. Jane held her arm tightly, just to be sure.

Charlotte looked around. "I guess I have to talk to Glorya about everything, huh? I won't be working here anymore. I'll...I'll miss it." She looked at Elizabeth, and looked away almost immediately. Then, she turned and walked into the kitchen without another word, leaving a seething Elizabeth.

"I can't believe—after all these years of friendship—she would—"

"Lizzy, I'm sure she didn't accept Mr. Collins just for the thought of being your mistress," Jane said gently. "She's right—she's somewhat unattractive, and mildly unintelligent, and her family doesn't have much money. When Mr. Collins proposed, all of this must have run through her mind."

Elizabeth didn't answer.

"Please, Lizzy, just forgive her."

Jane didn't know what was going on in Elizabeth's head, but eventually Elizabeth calmed down. Her tense shoulders sagged, and she stumbled backwards into her seat. Charlotte walked out of the kitchen, peeked at the two sisters, and rushed out.

"Lizzy."

"Hmm."

"Mr. Bingley's here."

"What?"

"Mr. Bingley's—"

Elizabeth finally processed the information. Her head snapped up. Mr. Bingley was walking towards them, smiling oddly.

Both sisters stood up. "Mr. Bingley! What a coincidence to see you here."

He bowed slightly. "I actually went to your house, and when your mother told me that you were probably here, I came here directly."

Pause.

"Anyway," he continued, "I'm here to tell you that...er, that..."

Jane watched his face carefully. She saw the nervousness, and the slight sadness, and felt something twist ominously in her stomach.

"I'm leaving. For New York. Business calls me back, and I..." He trailed off, waving his hands around silently. Jane and Elizabeth just stared at him.

"You're leaving?" Jane asked quietly again. Mr. Bingley looked at her for a long time. "Yes, I am. I'm not sure when I'll be back, but I will come back as soon as I can. Business—you understand..."

Jane nodded once, silently, eyes cast downwards, trying to hide her disappointment. Elizabeth stared openly at Mr. Bingley, wondering at his abruptness and his cruelty.

"I'm sorry, but I really have to leave now. My sister and Mr. Darcy are waiting for me outside."

"You're leaving right now? On such short notice? It must be urgent business, Mr. Bingley," Jane said carefully, raising her doe-brown eyes to examine his face. He stared at her eyes, the curve of her cheeks, the disappointment tugging at the corners of her delicate lips. He ripped his eyes away, looking slightly guilty.

"Yes, it's urgent business. One of my managers apparently sold something he shouldn't have, or he made some stupid mistake—I couldn't tell from the jumbled phone call."

"I see."

Silence.

He bowed again, and reached out his hand. "I'm sorry to leave—I really am. I hope you will find it in you somewhere to forgive me."

Elizabeth just stared at him, speechless, the word _cruel_ wafting through her head like the after-effects of too much alcohol. Jane slowly, cautiously took his hand. His gloved fingers folded tightly around her slim fingers, and they held onto each other for a long, desperate moment.

Miss Bingley catwalked into the Coffee Nook. "Charles?" She called, impatient.

Jane let go first, sliding her hand from his and returning it to her side. His hand wavered in the air, dropped. He bowed his head in a silent apology, and slowly turned his back to leave.

Elizabeth watched him leave as if in a dream. She partly couldn't register what was happening. But then she saw Mr. Darcy outside of the shop, standing, watching her with a sad, brooding face. Their eyes met for a split second, and both looked away immediately.

As the Bingleys and one Darcy drove away, Elizabeth and Jane slowly sat back down at the table, not knowing what to do and _not _wanting to go back home. Neither spoke for a long time.

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**A/N: **Eighth chapter up and running. What a depressing chapter, yes. I screwed around with the timing of the events, ultimately to make the story shorter...but I think it's better for all the depressing stuff to fall upon the Bennets at once rather than for a whole winter of stretched-out depressing stuff to pass by. For one thing, that would make for a boring chapter.

REVIEWS PLEASE! I got a lot of story favorites/story alert subscriptions, but reviews make me the happiest. And they only take up a few moments of your time! ;P

-Sanded Silk-


	10. Chapter 10

I believe this is the ninth chapter...? Too lazy to click around and find out XD

ALSO: review turn-out has been very depressing. I think I've only got one constructive review, and considering this is the ninth chapter, I'd say that's a little saaaad.

**Disclaimer: I am turning around and walking away.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

Needless to say, after finding out that Mr. Collins had proposed to Charlotte and that Mr. Bingley had unexpectedly quit Hertfordshire, Mrs. Bennet was in a mess. She was immediately bed-ridden, and did nothing but lie in bed all day, moaning and groaning and demanding to be fanned at all times. Her daughters stood in her room, some coaxing her to get out of bed, others stroking her arm silently, others standing by the window and staring out at nothing. Mr. Bennet stood in the doorway, looking thoughtful.

"I can't bear to think that I would have to make way for Charlotte Lucas! _Charlotte Lucas_! The possibility that I shall yield to her and called her 'Mistress'—" Mrs. Bennet's words were smothered by another sob.

"Mom, you can't carry on like this forever," Elizabeth sighed.

Mrs. Bennet's face turned instantly from woe to fury. "_You_! _You_, young lady, should not be saying anything at all. To think that by now, you could be engaged to Mr. Collins, and that our futures are safe should Mr. Bennet kick the bucket—Oh, I can't describe how wretched that makes me feel. You are the cause of all of this, Elizabeth. If only you were a little more like Jane—!"

"Mom," Jane piped, "you should remember that Mr. Bingley's left us as well, and that it must somehow be my fault."

"Nonsense, Jane. There is absolutely nothing wrong with you; Mr. Bingley was just too blind to see it. Quite unfortunate. Believe me, he will see the error of his ways and come running back to you in no time."

"I don't think he will, Mom. He cited business as his reason for leaving, but I know that he was lying."

"But _why_ he was lying, you can't be sure," Elizabeth said.

The conversation was cut short when the doorbell rang.

"Who can that be?" Lydia asked, brightening at the thought of an exciting unannounced visitor.

Mr. Bennet left to find out, and returned being trailed by two familiar, welcome faces.

"Uncle Tom! Aunt Rose!" Elizabeth was the first to reach their beloved Uncle and Aunt, and was followed closely by the rest of the Bennet sisters. Mrs. Bennet smiled, but stayed in bed—obviously an effort to get her brother and sister-in-law to ask her what was wrong. Always in want of attention, thought Elizabeth bitterly.

Uncle Tom fell for the trick. "Sister, you don't look so good."

"Oh, Tom, the most horrible things have happened, and you only have your no-good second niece to thank!" Followed by a long, exaggerated rant of how Elizabeth had managed to screw everything up.

"And Mr. Bingley has, for no reason whatsoever, left us—left Jane to heartache and confusion without the slightest excuse! I never thought such a pleasant, rich man—" Mrs. Bennet broke off there, overcome with dissatisfaction.

"I don't believe it would have been wise for Elizabeth to marry Mr. Collins anyway," Aunt Rose said. "Even if he does marry Elizabeth, there's no telling what he would do to the rest of you. And maybe he was planning on taking advantage of Elizabeth's love for her family to do something...er, shady." Uncle Tom nodded solemnly, then turned to Jane before his sister could start screeching.

"Jane, Rose and I are headed up to our home in New York. Yes, we know that that is where Mr. Bingley is, but we live on the other side of town, so I was wondering if you'd like to come up with us. Change of scene, places to go, interesting things to see. Take your mind off things for a bit. If that's okay with Rose."

Aunt Rose nodded, smiling at her husband. Elizabeth admired the relationship between Uncle Tom and Aunt Rose. They deferred to each other in everything, and they loved each other so much, even in ripe age—unlike her own parents.

Jane looked thoughtful, then turned to her parents.

"I don't have any objections," Mr. Bennet said simply. Mrs. Bennet thought for a little while longer.

"I think," she said finally, "that it would be wonderful if Mr. Bingley were to see Jane in New York and have a heart-attack before realizing how much he loves her and proclaim himself an ass and ask her for her forgiveness."

"Mom!"

"Well," Uncle Tom said, ignoring his sister's comments, "it seems you have the consent of both your parents. Would you like to leave with us tomorrow?"

Jane thought for a little while longer, then nodded. Elizabeth deflated slightly; she had already lost Charlotte, and now she was to lost her best friend as well?

"Good then," Aunt Rose said, clapping her hands together. "Tomorrow we leave at dawn!"

"Dawn?" Jane asked, agape.

"Just kidding. It feels adventurous and daring to proclaim that we are leaving at dawn." Silence. "Sorry. We'll leave whenever you like."

-o-o-o-o-o-

"I can't help but think," Elizabeth said while she was helping her sister pack, "that Miss Bingley is behind her brother's leaving."

Jane stuffed a pile of folded clothing into her suitcase before straightening to stare at her sister. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, it's quite obvious—at least, to me—that she thinks very lowly of our family. So, she wouldn't want her brother to marry into a family of such low standing. Plus, Lydia and Kitty's violently flirtatious natures and Mom's outspokenness don't help much."

"But she would also want her brother to be happy, wouldn't she?"

"I guess, but I just don't have the greatest feeling about her. Like the way she flounces into every room she enters? And the way she looks over a crowd of people as if they're her worshippers? It would seem natural for her to dislike us so much as to interfere with her brother's feelings for you."

Jane sat on her suitcase to zip it closed, silent.

"It was just a thought. I still refuse to believe that Mr. Bingley left solely because of 'business.'"

"Just give it a rest," Jane said abruptly, and got up to grab another bag.

Elizabeth stared at her sister. "What?"

"I know that he left because he doesn't like me," Jane said. "Rich young men are like that—they flirt around, have a little fun, and then leave. He was never genuinely interested in me."

"He does like you! The way he was looking at you in the Coffee Nook; there's no mistaking it. He wasn't happy about leaving you."

"Then why did he leave?"

"Business! Or if he's lying, his sister. I don't know. He's definitely not leaving on his own will."

"Say what you will. I won't get my hopes up with him again."

"He loves you, Jane. Don't give up," Elizabeth said fiercely. Jane paused in stuffing toiletries into her bag and looked up at Elizabeth with vulnerable doe eyes. Elizabeth ran over to her sister and hugged her.

"He's going to come crawling back to you, whether it's sooner or later. You've got him so wrapped up in your spell, it's too late for anyone to pull him back out. Don't worry, Jane."

Elizabeth had never seen Jane in love before, but she knew that this time was different. Mr. Bingley's leaving so abruptly, combined with Jane's sensitive nature, had left Jane vulnerable and self-blaming. Elizabeth didn't know who to blame for this mess, but she would find out.

Jane nodded into Elizabeth's hair. "Thanks, Lizzy."

With a pang, Elizabeth knew that Jane didn't believe in her pep talk. Just like Jane—refusing herself hope, in case that hope would cause pain in the future. Sighing, Elizabeth released her sister, gave her a comforting pat on the cheek, and left.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Good-bye, Jane!" Mrs. Bennet called after the car. "Try not to be a burden! Give Mr. Bingley a heart attack!"

"_Mom_!"

As the family trudged back into the house, Mr. Bennet handed Elizabeth a letter. "From Charlotte," he said.

Just as Elizabeth was opening the letter, one of Lydia's ditzy friends bursted through the front gates. "Lydia! Kitty! Oh, horrible news—the soldiers, the Marines—have left—"

"WHAT?" Lydia's and Kitty's shrieks were heard throughout the neighborhood. Elizabeth sighed and continued opening her letter. It was indeed from Charlotte. A mournful apology for leaving so early, and a wish for Elizabeth's visiting her new home. A proclamation of loneliness, and a daring suggestion that Lady Catherine de Bourgh wasn't nearly as great as Mr. Collins made her out to be.

Elizabeth sat still for a moment, then went to talk to her father.

-o-o-o-o-o-

As Elizabeth stepped out of her cab, she was greeted by the sight of a humble parsonage on a rolling hill, and by the delighted shrieks of Charlotte. The two friends—though their relationship was a little more complicated than that—hugged each other, delighted.

"Thank you so much for visiting me, Lizzy. Please, come inside."

Mr. Collins was waiting at the door. "And if you'd come this way, Miss Elizabeth, you'd see a wonderful garden, painstakingly tended by yours truly. It's wonderful exercise, and my dear Charlotte recommends that I do it as often as I can."

"Dear, I think Lizzy is a bit tired after her trip."

But Mr. Collins chugged on. "I am planning many improvements, like throwing out that bough and installing a charming little path of pebbles." Pause. "I flatter myself that any young lady would be happy to be the mistress of such a house." When he turned to analyze Elizabeth's reaction, he found that he had been talking to himself.

Charlotte sneaked her friend into her parlor. "This is my very own parlor. It's for my own use only." Charlotte plopped down into one of the comfortable love seats, motioning for her friend to do the same.

"It must be wonderful to be mistress of your own house," Elizabeth observed, sinking into a loveseat.

"Oh, it is!" Charlotte squealed.

Just then, Mr. Collins' voice floated into the room. "Charlotte!" He was calling from the front yard.

Charlotte got up and ran to the window. "What's wrong? Has the pig escaped again?" Then: "Oh."

Elizabeth joined Charlotte at the window. "Is something wrong?"

"No, everything is actually wonderful. That's Lady Catherine de Bourgh," said Charlotte, pointing at the sleek black limousine parked in front of the parsonage—an awkwardly opulent object in such a quiet, almost-rustic setting.

Mr. Collins was tripping across the flawless lawn towards Charlotte, glowing from a few seconds of running. "Great new," he puffed. "Lady Catherine has invited us to her mansion for dinner."

Charlotte's face split with a grin. "That's wonderful," she gushed. Then she turned to Elizabeth, looking at her friend's casual travel clothes. "Don't worry about what to wear, Lizzy. Just put on whatever you think it best."

"Lady Catherine has never been uncivil to the truly humble," Mr. Collins added. Elizabeth gave him a look, and turned to retrieve some appropriate clothes from her suitcase.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Here we are. Rosings Park, home of the honorable Lady Catherine de Bourgh," Mr. Collins announced grandly as Elizabeth gaped at the mansion. It was hug, even for a mansion, and it was massively opulent, with delicate carvings in the stone of the walls and sweeping windows. The lawn put Mr. Collins' to shame, and Elizabeth could glimpse neatly-tended gardens behind the house.

"Never seen anything like it, have you?" Charlotte asked gleefully. Elizabeth nodded, speechless.

"Come along. Lady Catherine does not like being kept waiting for her dinner," Mr. Collins said briskly as they clambered out of the limousine and started walking up the long sidewalk to the mansion. "Come along. Come along."

Elizabeth ignored Mr. Collins' nagging, climbed the magnificent stone steps, took a deep breath, and reached for the knocker.

* * *

**A/N:**I know that the ending for this chapter was a little uneventful and boring, but it's the best I can do at 11 at night. -yawn- Time for bed...

REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS REVIEWS

-Sanded Silk-


	11. Chapter 11

Ninth. I think.

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

As Elizabeth stepped into the grand foyer, a maid clacked down the hall from the left, frowning. But as soon as the maid saw Mr. Collins, she relaxed.

"Mr. Collins! Lady Catherine is waiting for you."

"Where is she?"

"In her favorite parlor. She's eager to meet your niece." The maid turned and led them through a maze of winding halls and sweeping windows, before finally stopping at a elaborately-carved wooden door.

"Before you go in, I should tell you, her nephew is in there."

Mr. Collins bowed slightly. "It shouldn't be a problem. In fact, it would be an honor to meet Lady Catherine's nephew."

"But we won't be intruding if we walk in, will we?" Elizabeth asked the maid. The maid shrugged and opened the door. As the maid announced their arrival, Mr. Collins marched in, followed more slowly by Charlotte, then by Elizabeth.

As Mr. Collins walked in, clearing his throat, Elizabeth peeked over Charlotte's shoulder. The parlor was Lady Catherine's favorite for a good reason—it was lightly decorated, with gold and white linen and dark wooden furnishings. A whole wall was completely glass, framed by sheer curtains. Around a sleek coffee table, arranged in a semi-circle, was a collection of leather sofas and dainty love-seats.

"Mr. Collins," one of the love-seats said. Elizabeth took a few steps further into the room, and saw that some of the sofas and love-seats were occupied. Mr. Collins bowed low, murmuring, "Lady Catherine." Then he bowed to another woman, murmuring "Miss de Bourgh."

Lady Catherine, Elizabeth saw, was a strikingly intimidating figure, although she was sitting in a love-seat that made her look rather small. Her hair was tightly coiled around her head and pinned into place, her wrinkle-free clothes radiated lofty opulence, and even the wrinkles pleating her face made her seem powerful and authoritative. She observed her visitors without emotion.

"It's such an honor to be invited to your Ladyship's house for another dinner," Mr. Collins gushed. "Miss de Bourgh, you are looking much more healthier since last week. And Lady Catherine, you look as splendid as always."

Embarrassed by Mr. Collins' outright subservience, Elizabeth turned around in place to observe the parlor. A third figure was standing on the opposite side of the coffee table. When he looked up at the newcomers, he froze and stared. Elizabeth, while gawking at the room, met his stare.

"Mr. Darcy!"

He nodded once, slowly, silently. She returned the greeting, barely.

"What—" she stammered, "what are you doing here?"

Lady Catherine looked between her nephew and Elizabeth. "You know my nephew?"

Elizabeth looked at Lady Catherine, still stunned. "Er—yes, I met him at Hertfordshire."

"Well, isn't that a charming coincidence! He was with Mr. and Miss Bingley, I presume."

"Er...yes, ma'am."

"Simply charming." Lady Catherine dropped the subject at that, and turned to everyone else. "Shall we all have dinner now?"

"Of course," Mr. Collins said, bowing. "We all know how you hate to be kept from your dinner."

Lady Catherine gave him a look, stood up, and led the way out of the room.

-o-o-o-o-o-

After a little flurry about seating arrangements—in which Elizabeth found herself plunked next to Mr. Darcy—the meal finally began. It opened with a light soup, with floating bits of vegetable.

Lady Catherine ate a spoonful, and began firing questions at Elizabeth.

"So, Miss Bennet. How is your family? I haven't seen your father in a while now."

"Everyone is very well, thank you."

"You have four sisters, correct?"

"Yes."

"And no brothers?"

"No."

"What a shame. That is where Mr. Collins comes in, I suppose."

"...Yes."

Silence.

"Do you draw?"

"Draw? No, not really. Ma'am."

"What about your sisters?"

"None."

"That's strange." Lady Catherine spooned some soup into her mouth, and Elizabeth took advantage of the pause to eat some too.

"Do you play any instrument?" Lady Catherine continued.

"Only a little piano. I'm not very gifted."

Lady Catherine snorted daintily, as if she thought Elizabeth were being modest, and fired on. "Your sisters? Do they play?"

"Only Mary. The others despise playing musical instruments."

"And Mary plays the piano, I presume?"

"Actually, the violin."

"How nice. Is she very good?"

"She is. And given the fact that she hasn't ever had a professional teacher, I'd say she is very talented."

"Never had a teacher?" Lady Catherine put her spoon down to stare at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth squirmed. "No. Ma'am."

"That's unheard of. You must make sure that your sister receives instruction from a teacher of some sort. Teachers are the leaders of the modern world."

"Er. All right, ma'am."

"Speaking of which. Do you and your sisters go to private school?"

"Private school? Of course not! There is a perfectly nice public high school three blocks away from our house."

"Public high school?" Lady Catherine's lip curled. "Where all those smoochy, dramatic adolescents reign? I can't believe it! How do they attend to your education?"

"It's there job to somehow manage it. I'd say they're pretty good. Jane—my oldest sister—got into Duke University, and all of my sisters have gotten 99-percentile scores on the PSATs."

"The PSATs don't matter a bit. I'm worried about the SATs?"

"Our scores on those have been fine, too. Jane scored a 2320."

"And you?"

"2360." It was one of the few things that Elizabeth had beaten her sister at.

Lady Catherine was silent for a moment. Then: "What about your younger sisters? Have they shown any genius in anything yet? Singing? Dancing? Acting? Even sports?"

"They haven't explored their limits much, ma'am. Mary keeps to herself and her books; Lydia and Kitty run around all day, chasing boys. But I don't think it's wise to force art or theater or dance on them. It wouldn't encourage familial affection, and it would only reduce their interest in our suggestions."

There was a long silence during which Elizabeth realized that she spoke quite informally.

"My," Lady Catherine exclaimed at last, "You give your opinion so...so confidently for one so young."

"Oh, I can't be considered 'young' anymore."

"Miss Elizabeth, you cannot be past twenty-one. Come to think of it, I don't know your age, do I? How old _are_ you?"

"With three younger sisters, Lady Catherine, you can't expect me to own it." Elizabeth leaned forward to drink some of her soup before it got cold, trying to ignore everyone's stares—especially Mr. Darcy's. _What, you're a Mama's-boy, too?_

"You can't have much reason to keep your _age_ from us, Miss Elizabeth," Lady Catherine said.

Elizabeth could hear an edge to her voice, and automatically answered, "Twenty, ma'am."

On that note, all friendly conversation ended between Lady Catherine and Elizabeth Bennet.

After dinner, the party ambled back to the parlor. Lady Catherine turned to Mr. Darcy and said, "Where is your cousin, Matthew? He was supposed to be here."

At that exact moment, a young man came running into the room, puffing. "Did someone just say my name?"

Lady Catherine turned to him. "Matthew! We were just wondering where you were. You missed dinner."

"I'm—" He paused for breath. "I'm sorry, Aunt, but I was detained. Some idiot smashed his car into a telephone pole. Wonder what he was doing." He looked around the room, saw strangers, and immediately tried to stand straight and stop puffing. "I don't believe I've met any of you before. I'm Matthew Fitzwilliams."

Mr. Collins swept forward to shake Mr. Fitzwilliam's hand heartily. "William Collins, at your service. This is Charlotte Collins, my wife, and Elizabeth Bennet, my niece."

Mr. Fitzwilliams bowed to all three. "Pleasure to meet you all."

"Pleasure is all ours."

Lady Catherine waved her hand at Mr. Fitzwilliams. "Come here, Matthew. I haven't seen you in a long time. Shouldn't you be getting a haircut?" She glanced diapprovingly at his hair, then abruptly turned to Elizabeth. "And you, Miss Elizabeth. You said you play the piano?"

"A little, yes."

Lady Catherine pointed at the piano in the room. "Please play for us."

Elizabeth stared at the piano, then fully registered Lady Catherine's words. "P-Play for you? Lady Catherine, when I say that I play terribly, I'm not being modest—"

"Ah, but music is my delight. No matter what kind of music you play, I will find occasion to enjoy it." She sighed. "If I had learned, I would have been a great musician. So would Anne, if it weren't for her poor health."

Everyone glanced at Anne, who bowed her head.

Elizabeth took one last stab at declining. "Lady Catherine, please—"

"Come now," Mr. Collins cut in. "Lady Catherine demands it."

Elizabeth looked around, and found that everyone was now looking at her. She took a deep breath, walked over to the piano, sat down, and began to play. She couldn't remember the title of the song, or the composer's name, or how long she'd known it; she just blindly played whatever came to her mind. She snuck a peak at Lady Catherine, and was relieved to see her attention completely on Mr. Collins, who was blabbering away.

She played and played, and suddenly, Mr. Darcy was at the piano, watching her. She almost started when she noticed him, and masked her alarm with a smirk.

"Are you trying to scare me, Mr. Darcy?" She asked sarcastically. "Do you think that under your regal presence, I'll falter and make a fool of myself?"

Her hesitated for a moment. "I have known you long enough, Miss Elizabeth, to know that I can't scare you even if I tried."

Elizabeth's smirk widened in satisfaction. "Do you play well yourself, Mr. Darcy?"

"I'm hopeless. My sister, Georgiana, however, is very talented."

"You have a sister?"

"Yes. She's sixteen."

"No other siblings?"

"None."

"I envy you."

"Your playing isn't too bad."

"What? Are your ears blocked up? I sound like a bunch of chickens pecking at the strings."

"No, you actually don't. You just—haven't completely mastered the song yet."

"In short, I have potential?"

"...Yes."

Elizabeth stopped playing for a moment. "Did you just—did you just compliment me?"

"...I believe I did. Why?"

"It's just so very hard to believe. A few days ago, you declared me 'not pretty enough' to tempt you."

Mr. Darcy frowned in confusion. When realization dawned, he paled slightly. "But your piano-playing skills have nothing to do with your looks."

"Oh, I know. I just didn't think that someone as aloof as you would deign to talk to me."

"Aloof?"

Elizabeth laughed at the confusion on his face. "Mr. Darcy, at the first and second parties we were at together, you didn't talk to anyone, and you didn't dance with any young lady, even though there were many young ladies without a partner."

"I knew no one outside of my party."

"And no one can be introduced at a party?"

Mr. Darcy simply looked at Elizabeth, having lost the argument and knowing it full well. Elizabeth gave him a cheeky smile, and turned back to the piano.

After a moment, Mr. Darcy said, in a low voice, "I don't...I don't have the talent of making friends easily. The only friends I have are very old, very close ones."

Elizabeth had stopped playing to hear him, and smiled at his confession. "Practice makes perfect. Next time you go to a party, make an effort to talk to one or two strangers. Just one or two." He watched her mouth move with a small twist of terror in his stomach, but he swallowed his fear and nodded silently. And then they found themselves staring at each other.

Just when it was getting awkward, Lady Catherine raised her voice. "Fitzwilliam, I need you here."

Mr. Darcy bowed slightly, and Elizabeth inclined her head. As he walked away, Elizabeth realized that she had been tense all over her body. She relaxed, even shook her head a little. Then she snuck a peak at Mr. Darcy.

He was standing by his aunt, talking to her in a low voice, barely showing any emotion. It was hard to believe that he had taken her teasing without complaint—even confessed his fear of strangers to her—just a few moments ago. Elizabeth watched her fingers move across the piano.

_He's just...an awkward teddy bear! _

She ducked her head and smothered a giggle at the mental image of a giant teddy bear standing, awkward and lonely, at a raucous dinner party. Then, she realized what she was thinking, and her smile fell from her face.

_What on earth...?_

Elizabeth had to stop playing for a moment to recollect her mind. Thinking of Mr. Darcy in such a friendly—_affectionate_—way had been so easy. So easy, in fact, that she had nearly forgotten what he'd done to Mr. Wickham.

If Mr. Wickham was telling the truth?

Elizabeth got up from the piano and went to sit beside Charlotte. For the rest of the night, she completely avoided looking anywhere in Mr. Darcy's direction. If she did—she didn't know what would happen, but she knew that it would be bad.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The next day was a Sunday, and that meant tha Elizabeth would be dragged to church and and be forced to listen to Mr. Collins' preaching, which—no doubt—would be torturous.

Charlotte was surrounded by a circle of women who felt anxious to welcome her into their neighborhood, so Elizabeth looked around desperately for a spot. The only other lonely person in the room seemed to be Mr. Darcy's cousin, Mr. Fitzwilliams, since Mr. Darcy was squished with his aunt and Miss de Bourgh on the other side of the room. Elizabeth went to sit beside Mr. Fitzwilliams, and smiled at him when he looked up in surprise.

"Ah, you're Mrs. Collins' friend! Elizabeth, right?"

"Yes. And you are Matthew Fitzwilliams, correct?"

"I am. Pleasure to meet you again."

Elizabeth nodded wordlessly. She bit her lip, trying to think of something to say—the silence was growing awkward, fast.

"So, Mr. Fitzwilliams," she finally said. "When do you plan to leave Kent?"

"I'm not sure. I'm completely at Will's service."

"Will?"

"Er, Fitzwilliam Darcy. My cousin?"

"Oh. Oh, yes. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"You don't seem to warm with my dear cousin."

Elizabeth didn't know what to say. Mr. Fitzwilliams looked at her for a moment, and suddenly laughed.

"Oh, I know my cousin doesn't make the best of first impressions. But he's a real friend. His loyalty is unquestionable. For instance, I heard that he recently saved a friend!"

"Saved a friend?" Elizabeth gaped at Mr. Fitzwilliams. "How?"

"I'm not sure what the details were, but I know that he rescued a close friend from an unhappy marriage just in time."

An unhappy marriage. Elizabeth felt her stomach leap.

"Who, may I ask, was his friend?"

Mr. Fitzwilliams thought for a moment. "It was that fellow he accompanied to Hertfordshire last week...Charles Bingley. Yes, that's the name."

Elizabeth was a quiet for a moment. She glanced over at Mr. Darcy before continuing. "Why did he interfere?"

"I believe there were strong objections to the lady."

Objections. Elizabeth felt her stomach leap more violently, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "What were the objections? Her lack of virtue?"

"No, I believe it was her inferior social standings."

Elizabeth, without moving her head, looked at Mr. Darcy, at his stony face. He looked almost pained, as if he were suffering from inner conflict. His aunt was saying something to him, but he didn't seem to be listening.

"So—" Elizabeth had to swallow before continuing. "So he separated them."

"I believe so, yes." Mr. Fitzwilliams looked at Lizzy, and his face instantly changed from indifference to alarm. "Are you okay?"

Elizabeth didn't answer. _He interfered. With Jane and Mr. Bingley. He made Mr. Bingley leave. He was behind everything. He—He—_

"Miss Elizabeth?"

She felt herself teetering over the edge of the church pew, but just barely. _He interfered. He interfered. _

"Miss Elizabeth? Can you hear me?"

Elizabeth's knees made contact with the ground, but she barely felt the throb of pain. As Mr. Fitzwilliams called for help, trying to help Elizabeth up, she looked up at Mr. Darcy, who was inspecting the floor.

_Him._

All thoughts of awkward, lonely teddy bear faded from her mind, replaced by gnarly roots of resentment, and she glared at him openly. He suddenly looked up from the ground, straight into her eyes. She broke eye contact, and found herself sitting on the pew again, being roughly shaken by Mr. Fitzwilliams.

"Miss Elizabeth? Elizabeth? Are you all right? Can you hear me? Elizabeth?"

"I'm—" Elizabeth put a hand on Mr. Fitzwilliam's arm to stop him. "I'm all right. Thank you. Th-thanks."

"Do you need anything? Some water?"

"No, I'm fine."

He looked at her for a long moment. "Was it your sister?"

"What?" Elizabeth feigned cluelessness, but he knew.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's not your fault. Please, don't take it to heart."

"Are you sure you don't need anything?"

"I just need—" What _did _she need? "I just need a moment. I'll be all right. Thank you."

Mr. Fitzwilliams nodded, but his concern didn't fade a bit. Throughout the service, Mr. Fitzwilliams watched Elizabeth, Elizabeth glared at Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy focused almost entirely on the floor.

* * *

**A/N**: End of chappie! I made it extra long out of looooove XD

Please lemme know what you think!

-Sanded Silk-


	12. Chapter 12

So, I just found out that this is the twelfth chapter, and not the tenth chapter like I was thinking all this time. -_- So far, this is my longest story XP don't you all feel lucky?

**Disclaimer: If I owned Pride and Prejudice, I'd make sure the whole world knew. So no, I don't own it. =/**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

After Charlotte and Mr. Collins left for town the next day, Elizabeth took advantage of the solitude to think. She put on a random pair of water-proof boots, in case she saw a comforting puddle from last night's rain, and took an umbrella in case last night's rain felt nostalgic. Sufficiently armed, she left the parsonage to wander the countryside, exploring the meadows and the thin, callow trails in the forest.

Just as Mr. Darcy began to become a different person, Mr. Fitzwilliam's innocent story had torn through the illusion, and left Elizabeth severely confused. Which Mr. Darcy was she to believe? The one who had good-naturedly taken her teasings and sought her out for polite conversation, or the one who'd called her "not pretty enough" and had "saved" his friend from an unhappy marriage?

Elizabeth kicked at a puddle, before realizing—too late—that she'd gotten some of the muddy water on her skirt. She paused, shrugged, and kept walking.

As for calling her "not pretty enough", Elizabeth could forgive him for that. She couldn't resent him just because he had opinions, and she didn't think herself too attractive anyway. She wasn't ugly, per se, but rather plain-looking. Definitely not a head-turner like Jane.

That being said, there remained his interference with Mr. Bingley's and Jane's relationship. Why had he done it? Apparently, because Jane simply wasn't good enough. Jane didn't have financial strings to pull, no connections whatsoever. The Bennet family, after Mr. Bennet had cut himself off of the family branch (the cause of that was never made known to Elizabeth), hadn't reaped the financial benefits that Mr. Bennet's family's connections offered.

It was a sound reason. Elizabeth knew that if a friend of hers was considering a poorer man/woman for a spouse, she would advise against it (just for practicality's sake!). But nevertheless, it stung.

Elizabeth kicked at another puddle. But it wasn't fair! Jane and Mr. Bingley really did like each other. They were happy together, they talked only with each other; their interest in each other was unquestionable. Should love ever outweigh want of connections?

Apparently, not for the connection-blessed.

Up ahead, Elizabeth noticed someone pacing across the path. She slowed to see who it was, and her stomach jumped when the figure stopped and looked at her.

"Miss Elizabeth!"

"Mr..." Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Mr. Darcy," she stammered. Slowly, she walked up to him. He'd stopped pacing and was looking at her with confusion etched clearly on his face.

"Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth asked, noting his puzzled face. "Is everything all right?"

"No. Not at all."

"...What?"

"I must..." He turned slightly away, rubbed a hand over his face, and turned back to her, his eyes blazing. "I have to...to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"In these past few days I've been in agony," he said with a rush. "I've tried to stop up the feelings, but in vain. All my efforts—all in vain. I've tried to persuade myself with my family's expectations, my better judgment, the inferiority of your birth...I came here to my Aunt's house with all intentions to leave as soon as possible, but when I saw you here, I couldn't leave. And yet the closer I am to you, the more in agony I am. But I..." He broke off here, looking frustrated.

"I don't..." Elizabeth shook her head, dismayed. "I don't understand—"

"I love you."

Both looked shocked to hear Mr. Darcy say this.

"Excuse me?" Elizabeth cocked her head and squinted her eyes, quickly overcoming her surprise and sure that it was all a big prank.

"I love you. So much that it scares me." Mr. Darcy swallowed with apparent difficulty. "Please—please allow me to date you."

Elizabeth didn't much think of Mr. Darcy as an actor type. So when she crawled over every inch of his breaking voice, inspected every corner of his face and found no cracks in the raw emotion, she knew he wasn't lying. But that meant—

"You...you..."

"I love you." He seemed to be saying it a little easier than the first time.

"...I..." Elizabeth looked down at the puddle separating them, trying to collect her wits. "Mr. Darcy, I'm grateful for your...attentions, and I'm sorry to have caused you—er, agony. I never set out to hurt you."

Pause.

"Is this your answer?" Mr. Darcy asked finally.

"Yes."

"Are you...are you rejecting me?"

Elizabeth sucked a deep breath, set her face. "...Yes."

"But..." Mr. Darcy's face was falling at an amazing—even fatal—speed. "But why? You haven't even pretended to think it through—"

"Then I might as well ask why you _told _me that you like me against your better judgment?"

"It is the truth, and I only ever tell the truth."

"Oh, is that right? Then what would you answer if I asked you about your role in Mr. Bingley's sudden departure from Hertfordshire?"

Silence.

Elizabeth pushed on. "Do you think anything in the world—the _universe—_could persuade me to marry the man who has caused my dearest sister's deepest swing of dejection? Do you deny that you separated Jane and Mr. Bingley? I don't know what Mr. Bingley feels about leaving Hertfordshire, but I know what Jane feels about it. Believe me, I do."

"I don't deny my interference."

Elizabeth stared. "Why?" she asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

"I thought that Charles' interest in your sister was not as intensely reciprocated."

"You thought she didn't like him?"

"Yes."

"But she's shy!"

"Charles didn't think as much."

"You planted that in him."

"For his own good!"

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said, hoping that he could feel the spray of needles in her voice, "my sister hardly ever tells _me_ her true feelings. How could you possibly hope to understand her if I don't?"

Silence.

Elizabeth cocked her head. All her fear and dread of meeting Mr. Darcy had long since disappeared. "I suppose another reason why you separated them is because of Mr. Bingley's promising wallet?"

"I wouldn't insult your sister like that!"

"Then why else did you interfere?"

"...Well, there was also your family—"

"What? Our lack of connections?"

"No. It..."

"What was it, Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth spat out his name now like it was bitter, biting venom.

"It was the lack of etiquette shown by your mother, your three younger sisters—and even sometimes your father." He breathed a quick sigh, as if thinking, There! I said it.

Elizabeth was shocked into silence by the brutal candor of Mr. Darcy's words. After a few seconds, somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered that rain was falling in slow, ominous drops.

Mr. Darcy looked away from Elizabeth's openly-affronted face. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "You and Miss Jane are exceptions to this."

But Elizabeth barely heard this, because she was racking her addled brains for some sort of insult to match his. And it finally popped into her head.

"What about Mr. Wickham?"

All traces of sorrow vanished from Mr. Darcy's face. Ignoring the puddle, he splashed right into it, planting himself directly in front of Elizabeth. "Mr. Wickham?" he spat.

"He told me of his misfortunes at your hand—"

"Oh, yes, his misfortunes have been _very_ great."

"You deprived him of his rightful inheritance, and yet you speak of him with sarcasm."

"I see what you think of me. Perhaps, if your pride hadn't been hurt by my honesty, I would be able to tell you the truth without your trampling all over it—"

"Excuse me? _My_ pride?"

"—and do you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your birth? Did you think I could completely overlook that fact with my burdens as a man of high class?"

Elizabeth tasted bile deep in her throat. "And those," she said quietly, "are the words of a refined man."

The rain was pouring now, but Elizabeth didn't notice. She stepped right up into Mr. Darcy's dripping, tortured face. "Ever since I first met you, your arrogance and your selfishness and your aloof disregard for the feelings of others convinced me that you are the last person I could ever like."

Thunder rumbled high overhead, a sound full of threat, of foreboding. Elizabeth was sickly satisfied that Mr. Darcy was taken aback enough for it to show in the tenseness of his mouth, the furrow of his eyebrows, the raw weakness in his eyes. His face was frozen in pain and dejection, but he tilted his face, and the pain and dejection was replaced by weary defeat. The sickly satisfaction grew.

"I'm..." Thunder tore through the skies, and Mr. Darcy broke off to let the thunder die down. "I'm sorry to have taken up your time," he finally said. Even though his voice was quiet and the pounding of rain was deafening, Elizabeth could hear every escaping breath.

Mr. Darcy had sounded like he was going to turn heel and strut away, but he didn't move, and Elizabeth found that she couldn't move either. His face was tilted a little more, and his eyes were flickering down towards her lips. Elizabeth blinked rapidly at him, and kept thinking that his face was growing closer and closer...

Right when she thought she could feel his ragged breath sweep across her nose, he turned away and disappeared into the downpour.

* * *

**A/N: **Done done! Whewwww, sooo glad I have school off tomorrow. I need it D:

Anyways, please review! PLEASE! Many thanks to **Mimbulus Mimbletonia17 **for your unwavering support! -hands a plate of freshly baked cookies to MM17-

Now everyone follow MM17's example XP

-Sanded Silk-


	13. Chapter 13

Thirteenth—unlucky number. Oh noes, what could that mean? o_o

**Disclaimer: lalala...**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

Charlotte was pacing at the front door when Elizabeth finally dragged herself into the house. Upon seeing Elizabeth drenched, with a tightly-closed umbrella in her hand, Charlotte pounced on Elizabeth.

"Where have you been? William and I thought you were lost somewhere out in the downpour! You're holding an umbrella, but you're soaking wet! What am I supposed to think about that? Lizzy, are you all right?"

Elizabeth felt the questions glide over her head. She nodded vaguely at the last question. "I'm all right. I just—I think I got a little cold."

"Why on earth did you not use your umbrella?" Charlotte asked again as she led Elizabeth towards the bathroom.

"I..." Elizabeth faltered. "I don't know."

"Lizzy, did something happen out there?"

Elizabeth was silent for a moment. "No."

"You sure act like it."

"Nothing happened. I just—walked around, and the rain started to fall..."

"All right. Don't tell me if you don't want to. Now quickly, get in the bathtub and take a nice, long, hot shower. Don't worry, William never used this bathtub before—even I haven't yet. It's quite new. I'll go make some soup." Charlotte bustled off.

"Thanks," Elizabeth mumbled after Charlotte's footsteps faded, and nearly slipped on her way to the bathtub.

As the burning water cascaded over her shoulders and ran down her body in refreshing rivulets, Elizabeth tilted her head up to the showerhead and closed her eyes, letting the water flow over her face, through her hair, down her neck. Even though the sound of rushing water filled her ears, she could hear Mr. Darcy's voice ringing through her head, asking her to date him over and over again.

_I said no_, Elizabeth told herself firmly, _a__nd there is no way I am changing my mind._

That bastard hadn't even denied his interference with Jane's and Mr. Bingley's relationship—he hadn't even tried! _Well_, Elizabeth thought bitterly, _at least he proved to be honest_.

She pulled her face out of the water's way and opened her eyes, thinking. Even though the whole event was over, even though Elizabeth had made up her mind, she couldn't stop dwelling on what had happened. Mr. Darcy—asking for permission to court her! Elizabeth smiled humorlessly. No one in the world could have foreseen Mr. Darcy's liking Elizabeth. In fact, she was still wondering if there had been some ulterior motive to his asking her for such a thing. Of course, Elizabeth couldn't think of any motive (except maybe to hurt Mr. Wickham?), but then again, she didn't know Mr. Darcy all too well.

Warmth was starting to blossom across her skin, but inside, she was still cold and confused. Yes, she had refused Mr. Darcy, and yes, she had made up her mind about him, but something didn't feel right.

Maybe it was the look in his eyes when she was accusing him of hurting Jane?

Elizabeth rubbed a hand over her face. _Poor Jane. _Mr. Darcy had claimed all sorts of reasons why Jane, in short, didn't suit Mr. Bingley; the Bennets' want of connection, their impropriety in public, and above all, Jane's apparent disinterest in Mr. Bingley.

But when Mr. Darcy was listing these reasons, stabbing Elizabeth over and over again with her family's embarrassing faults—_after all, he's right about Mom—_his face was twisted in hesitance, and his eyes were fathomless pools of regret. Regret?

Elizabeth blinked, and she saw Mr. Darcy, standing before her in the rain, dark locks plastered to his forehead, brow drawn upwards, face dripping, electric-cyan eyes staring at her mournfully like a homeless, wizened dog. Her heart twanged, and she blinked again, and all she saw was the bland green shower curtain.

_So is that it? _She wondered to herself grimly as she turned off the water and stepped out of the bathtub. _The reason why I can't stop thinking about what happened is because I can only associate him with the teddy bear and the homeless dog? Is that it?_

She sighed into the towel. She knew every facet of everyone around her, but she couldn't begin to fathom herself.

Well after dinnertime, while Mr. and Mrs. Collins were at the birthday party of a neighbor, Elizabeth sat on the guest room bed moodily. She'd claimed to be sick, and Charlotte had readily believed her ("All that rain!"). Elizabeth relished in the solitude, the buzzing silence, the ample time to brood.

After a whole afternoon and evening, Elizabeth still couldn't sort out her feelings from her will. She didn't know whether she truly didn't want to date Mr. Darcy, or whether she couldn't.

Elizabeth was just about to entirely give up on thinking about it when the doorbell rang. She got up, her mind a murky mess, and fumbled for the front door.

When she swung the door open, she was greeted by a blast of post-storm wind and a very-windblown Mr. Darcy.

_Mr. Darcy!_

In panic, Elizabeth slammed the door shut, but found something wedged in the way. Mr. Darcy had thrown himself against the door and was silently, grimly, holding the door a few inches from shutting.

"I came to give you this," he said calmly. From the depths of his coat he drew a wrinkled piece of paper, folded into quarters. Elizabeth stared at it as if it was coated with burning venom.

"It's a letter," Mr. Darcy said. "I know I've insulted you today, but none of it was on purpose, and it was all out of honesty. But you've laid two unfair charges against me, and I...well." He shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure you knew exactly what happened."

"Exactly what happened," Elizabeth murmured, shifting her glare from the letter to him.

"Yes," Mr. Darcy nodded. "Exactly what happened."

"I won't believe you," Elizabeth bit.

"If you won't believe me, then you'll believe Matthew, won't you?"

"What does he have to do with anything?"

"Read it, and you'll find out."

Elizabeth stared at him more, then at the letter clenched in his freezing fingers. She finally snipped the letter out of his hand.

"When are you leaving?" She asked.

"Right now."

"But what if I have to argue about something with you? About this letter?" Weak attempt at teasing.

"Take some time to think about it, unlike how you've approached everything else." Despite the sting of his words, his face was far from malevolent. Elizabeth saw the same premature weariness that had laced his face during their previous meeting earlier that day.

Finally, he stepped away from the door. She kept the door open, just a few inches, just to see if he would do anything else.

"Take care, Miss Elizabeth," he said quietly, nodding once.

"Take care yourself," she murmured once his receding back had disappeared down the road.

As soon as she closed the door, she ran to the guest room, locked the door, and unfolded the letter, nearly ripping the paper in her eagerness.

_Elizabeth,_

_I won't waste time taking back the things I said, no matter how disgusting they were to you. I truly believed every word I said, and I won't take back what I think is right. However, please allow me to address the two offenses that you have laid against me:_

_Mr. Wickham and I, as you must already know, grew up together. He was like another son to my father. All throughout my childhood, adolescence, and early adulthood, Mr. Wickham and I were inseparable. Sometimes, I even entertained the fact that my father loved Mr. Wickham more than he loved me, but that favoritism, in my eyes, was justifiable; Mr. Wickham was truly a wonderful young man, matchlessly intelligent and eager to serve._

_When my father died, he left Mr. Wickham a large sum of money—250,000 dollars, to be exact. Mr. Wickham gladly took the money, and disappeared a few days afterward. I thought that he knew what he was doing, so I let him be. But barely two months after he left, he sent a very friendly letter to me in which he demanded more money from my father's account. After a little circumlocution and frivolous talk, he revealed the cause of his sudden poverty to be terrible luck at gambling. Of course, I refused him the money. After that, he severed all acquaintance._

_During the summer of last year, he suddenly reappeared at Pemberley—my father's home—and declared himself passionately in love with my sister, Georgiana. _

_She is to inherit 600,000 dollars. _

_I saw the connection, and when I explained it to Georgiana, she told me that she had planned to elope with Mr. Wickham only a few days later. Needless to say, I made it clear to Mr. Wickham that he wouldn't receive a penny of Georgiana's money. After facing my anger and Georgiana's pain, he disappeared once again. __You can imagine Georgiana's despair. She was only fifteen years old._

_As for the matter of Mr. Bingley and Jane: thought my motives may seem insufficient to you, know that I acted on concern for my friend. I didn't want him to be subject to heartache, in case my assumption about Jane's disinterest was true. I wanted to break off the connection while it was still young and malleable. I never wished to insult Jane, or to hurt her. I only wanted what I thought was coming to come sooner, and for it to be over with. If it gives you comfort, Mr. Bingley was very reluctant in leaving Hertfordshire, and even more so in leaving Jane._

_I don't expect you to forgive me, because I know I've hurt you deeply. Please know that I never meant to hurt you or anyone close to you, and that I realize I acted before I knew what I was doing. Maybe we can continue our acquaintance as simply friends._

_Yours,_

_Will Darcy_

Will Darcy.

Elizabeth licked her lips, which had gone impossibly dry, and read the letter over again. Read the signature over again. And again.

Will Darcy. How strangely raw and intimate it seemed for him to sign off with his nickname rather than his full name.

Mr. Wickham.

What had she done?

Elizabeth groaned and slapped a hand to her face. Jane had been right to suspect Mr. Wickham of shady character. The moment he flaunted his misfortunes, Elizabeth should have known. Now that she had the advantage of retrospect, she saw how close-minded—how _stupid—_she'd been. She saw how arrogant he was when he claimed to be the late Mr. Darcy's favorite; she saw the condescending tolerance that had been whispering underneath his attentiveness.

Elizabeth was so absorbed in regret that she completely missed Charlotte walking into the room.

"Lizzy?"

Elizabeth jumped three feet and pressed the letter to her chest. "Charlotte!"

"Lizzy, are you okay?"

The impulsive affirmative died on Elizabeth's lips. Was she okay?

"I don't know."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Elizabeth felt like it had been ages since she'd been home. She stopped once she was inside the front hall to take a deep breath of home-air and smile discreetly.

"Lizzy! Oh, you're home at last! Go comfort Jane, now there's a good girl," Mrs. Bennet trilled, sweeping into the front hall.

Elizabeth's stomach jumped. "Jane's home?"

"Yes, yes, she's in her room. Go right now and comfort her!"

"Why? What's happened?"

"Oh, she'll tell you soon enough. Now get up there!"

Elizabeth dragged her suitcase up the steps and dumped it in her room before running across the hall into Jane's room. Jane looked up from her unpacking, and smiled instantaneously.

"Lizzy!"

"Jane!"

The two sisters hugged for a good long moment.

"Jane, I've missed you so much! Being around Mr. Collins for so long—uuughh."

"And I missed you too! Our cousins are as obnoxious and creative as ever."

"Mom said to come up here and comfort you?"

"Oh," Jane said quietly, letting go of Elizabeth. "I shouldn't have told her, but it just slipped out..."

"What happened?"

Jane didn't reply. Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, then made the connection.

"You saw Mr. Bingley."

Jane looked down. "Yes."

"Where? How? Did he see you?"

"I was just wandering the streets, looking for good stores to shop in, and he just walked by. I don't think he saw me. But don't worry, Lizzy, I'm over him. When he walked by, I hardly noticed, and when I did, I only stared after him for a second."

Elizabeth stared at her sister. Jane smiled fleetingly, and looked away.

"So..." Jane said. "How is everything in Kent? How is Charlotte with Mr. Collins?"

"They're actually doing pretty well, I think. They don't hate each other, and they don't love each other either."

"Did anything interesting happen?"

Elizabeth felt her heart leap. She swallowed as subtly as she could, and shook her head, smiling.

"No. Nothing happened."

* * *

**A/N: **Lah. Thirteenth chapter done. :D

Reviews please!

-Sanded Silk-


	14. Chapter 14

Fourteenth!

...yeah.

**Disclaimer: -ahem-**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

There was a clamor downstairs as Elizabeth and Jane ventured down the staircase. Elizabeth saw the door closing, and hurried to find the source of the clamor.

Lydia was circling the living room and squealing with glee, while Kitty was sprawled on a sofa, screaming insanities into the cushions. Mary, Aunt Rose, and Uncle Tom were looking on solemnly, as Mrs. Bennet tried to circle the room with Lydia and Mr. Bennet tried to comfort Kitty.

"Why don't I get to go?" Kitty wailed.

"Because I'm so much better than you are," Lydia sang.

"Go where?" Elizabeth sighed, sitting on the arm of the sofa to pet Kitty's hair.

Mr. Bennet looked up. "Mrs. Forster visited just now—you know Mrs. Forster, right? The hostess of the party that welcomed the soldiers home. Lydia and Kitty dragged you to it last week, I believe."

"I remember. Why was she here?"

"She came to offer to take Lydia traveling with a group of soldiers. They're going off to Brighton to visit some sort of camp or something—"

"It's a lodge where a whole bunch of soldiers are staying," Lydia squealed. "I'll be completely surrounded by tall, handsome young men all day!" At this, Kitty's wails heightened a few octaves.

Elizabeth dragged her father aside. "You can't let Lydia go!"

"And why not?"

"She's the most flirtatious, most improper girl in the world! She'll bring shame to all the Bennets to come!"

"First of all, you five girls are the only Bennets, and since your children will not inherit the Bennet name, you don't have to worry about them carrying around that burden. Secondly, she will continue to be flirtatious and improper if she stays here the rest of her days. She needs to go somewhere unfamiliar, someplace where there will be much more important people than herself. She has to learn that she isn't the biggest thing that ever happened in world history."

"But it's not safe!"

"Lizzy, don't think I'm insulting Lydia, but she's not nearly rich enough—or appealing enough in any way, shape, or form—to incite the advancements of some predator. Believe me." He sighed. "Besides, if she doesn't leave, we won't have peace for the rest of winter break."

Elizabeth gaped. "Is that all you really care about?"

"Well, you have to admit, the idea is very appealing. Besides, other than the trip being a potentially-enlightening experience for Lydia, the Forsters are a sensible couple. They won't let anything happen to Lydia."

"But what about Kitty?"

"I'm not nearly as worried about Kitty as I am about Lydia. Kitty's got it in her to learn someday without having to leave Hertfordshire, but Lydia—not so much. Lydia can't get much worse than she is now, you know."

Elizabeth glanced at Lydia, who was mockingly comforting Kitty, and sighed.

Aunt Rose was talking in a low voice with Uncle Tom, and when he nodded and smiled at her, she smiled back before somehow making her way through the living room to Elizabeth.

"Lizzy, your Uncle and I were thinking about going straight from here to Amorie Falls. You've heard of it, haven't you?"

"Yes, I heard that it's a very nice place."

"Your Uncle and I were wondering if you wanted to come with us before school starts. Also, there are no soldier's-lodges near Amorie Falls, which we think is a huge plus for you."

Elizabeth laughed. "It really is a huge plus for me!"

"Come with us, then. Get some fresh air. Amorie Falls in the winter is especially stunning."

By then, Uncle Tom had wormed his way past the clamor to Aunt Rose's side, and was listening in.

Out of the blue, Mr. Darcy's face suddenly flashed across Elizabeth's mind—his doleful stare, his dark windblown hair, his strong jaw. Elizabeth flinched.

"The glories of nature. What is crashing water and solid rock compared to men?" She said suddenly. "Men are either arrogant or stupid, and if they manage to escape both categories and make the amiable category, then they have no mind of their own."

Uncle Tom choked. Aunt Rose's eyebrows rose. "That was really random, Lizzy. Did something happen in Kent?"

Elizabeth looked away. "No. Do we leave tomorrow?"

"Yes. But—"

"At dawn?"

"For heaven's sake, Lizzy, I was joking."

Elizabeth smiled. "I know." And she detached herself from her aunt and uncle to join Jane in comforting Kitty.

-o-o-o-o-o-

That night, while Lizzy was re-packing the clothes that she had just dumped out, Jane walked in.

"Lizzy, do you need any help?"

Elizabeth looked up, and smiled. "Oh, no thanks. I only unpacked some of my clothes. Just need to refold them."

Jane watched Elizabeth for a moment, then shrugged. "Okay."

Just as Jane's back disappeared through the door, Elizabeth called her back. Jane backtracked, stood at the door. "Yeah?"

Elizabeth sat down on her bed, putting the sweater she had been folding aside. She had to tell Jane.

"I saw Mr. Darcy in Kent."

"Really?" Jane paled slightly.

"Yeah. Apparently, he's Lady Catherine de Bourgh's nephew."

"Wow! Really? That explains why he's so rich to begin with."

"Yeah." Elizabeth opened her mouth to tell Jane about the proposal, the refusal, the argument, the letter. Mr. Bingley. But she suddenly realized that something was forcing her jaw closed, and she couldn't utter even a word of what had happened.

"Lizzy? Is something wrong?"

Elizabeth shook her head slowly. "No."

"Why didn't you tell me about Mr. Darcy before?"

Elizabeth didn't answer.

"Did he..." Jane leaned against the door frame. "Did he mention Mr. Bingley?"

Elizabeth stared at Jane for a moment. "No." She shook her head some more. "Not at all."

"Oh." Jane looked down at the floor to regain her composure, to hide her pain. "Okay," she said quietly, and left. Elizabeth stared after her sister.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Elizabeth stood at the majestic foot of Amorie Falls and stared in wonder. How long had it been since she'd been so close to nature? So exposed to the trees, the snow, the biting-cold-yet-refreshing air? For some reason, as Elizabeth stood on a snow-covered rock in her most comfortable winter clothes in awe, all her worries—about Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham, Lydia, Jane, Mr. Collins and Charlotte—seemed far away, mere specks in the grand scheme.

Uncle Tom walked up next to her. "Ah, what are men compared to crashing waters and solid rock?"

Elizabeth laughed freely. "Sorry if I insulted you, Uncle. I was..." She couldn't quite explain, but it didn't bother her.

"It's all right," her uncle chuckled. "In my sister's household, no one is allowed to go about stress-free."

Elizabeth laughed again, then looked at her uncle. "Where exactly are we?"

Aunt Rose was standing next to her uncle. "We're actually very close to Pemberley," Aunt Rose piped up.

Elizabeth's stomach jumped to her mouth, then plummeted. "What?"

"Pemberley," her uncle repeated. "Why?"

"That's..." Elizabeth struggled to form words with her mouth. All thoughts about the majesty and peace of Amorie Falls had been sucked out of her. "That's Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's home. Isn't it?"

"Yes, that's his name," her uncle said, waving his arm. "Can't believe I forgot his name of all names to forget. I heard that his lake is choking with fish. I really want to go fishing there—"

"Oh no, let's not," Elizabeth cut in.

"What? Why not?" Uncle Tom and Aunt Rose were puzzled at Elizabeth's sudden, over-enthusiastic denial.

"I'd..." Elizabeth shrugged, and looked back at the waterfall. "I'd rather not."

"No good reason?"

Elizabeth shrugged again, looking down at her gloved hands, which were clasped together in nervousness. "I'd just rather not. He's so...he's so..."

"So what?" Aunt Rose asked, increasingly confused.

"He's so rich."

"So rich?" Uncle Tom laughed. "You're such a snob, Lizzy. You dislike Mr. Darcy just because of his riches? It's not his fault that he's so rich, anyway. He's the nephew of Lady de Bourgh, and he's a very gifted businessman. Besides, he himself won't be at home. He's almost never at home."

Elizabeth couldn't create a reason not to go, not with her mind so frazzled, so she stared at the waterfall and waited for her aunt and uncle to go off exploring before allowing herself to sag and pace restlessly.

Go see Mr. Darcy! That was the last thing Elizabeth wanted to do. According to her uncle, he wasn't home, but she didn't want to take any risks. What if he was home, and they saw each other? How would she explain her being there?

Elizabeth sighed. He probably hated her, for the way she mercilessly criticized him. He wasn't innocent of those crimes, but they had been well-reasoned—especially in his denying Mr. Wickham of more money—

Elizabeth wanted to scream. She didn't want to see him! But she couldn't tell her uncle and aunt the real reason why she didn't want to go. Of course! She could say that schoolwork was hounding her—

But the end of winter break was still weeks away, and she didn't even have that much school work to finish in the first place.

Elizabeth squatted down, pulling her knees to her chest. She didn't feel to good.

* * *

**A/N:** Wheeee! Fourteenth chapter done XP There are probably some really stupid typos in here, but I'm not bothering to check because I'm actually supposed to be finishing up history homework, which is due tomorrow...and which I haven't started yet...hmm.

REVIEW!

-Sanded Silk-


	15. Chapter 15

Fifteenth, I think. Not sure...eh.

**Disclaimer: arrrrrrrgh.**

**-**Sanded Silk-

* * *

Elizabeth's queasiness increased as Pemberley Place came into view. Her aunt and uncle, however, paid no attention and gushed about how beautiful the landscape was and how massive and majestic the sun-washed stone mansion was—and look, there was a man-made pond right in front of the mansion! The symmetry of the landscaping in the frontyard is just meticulous. Am I right, Lizzy?

Elizabeth barely noticed anything going on around her. She robotically climbed out of the car, allowing herself to be dragged up the stone steps and into the mansion through the huge, almost-medieval front doors. A maid rushed to meet the visitors, listened as they expressed their wishes to tour the home—it is open to visitors right now, right?—and led them further into the front hall, smiling.

"I'll go fetch the head housekeeper right now, and she'll show you around," the maid said before bustling off, yelling "Visitors!"

The head housekeeper appeared moments after the maid disappeared. She smoothed down her apron, tucked imaginary strands of hair into her tight bun, and walked towards them in a stately gait, smiling guardedly.

"Are you here to tour Pemberley?"

"Yes, we are. There wasn't some sort of pre-registration required, right?"

"Correct. I'm sorry to say that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the owner of Pemberley Place, is not here today, so you won't be meeting him on your tour."

"Oh, that's not a problem," Elizabeth said quickly. Her queasiness diminished to nothing.

"Then let's start, shall we?" The housekeeper said, and gestured to the ceiling, where a breathtakingly-detailed _fresco secco _was painted. "If you'll look at the ceiling directly above you..."

Elizabeth didn't quite take in everything the housekeeper said about every single piece of furniture and every piece of linen; she just twirled in slow circles, staring at the opulence of Pemberley Place in awe. So this was the extent of Mr. Darcy's riches! He seemed even richer than Mr. Bingley, which Elizabeth hadn't thought was possible.

On the walls of the main sitting room were two tall photographs. One was of a girl Elizabeth didn't recognize, with golden hair and large blue eyes. Her pose and her flawless white dress made her look ethereal, almost ephemeral.

"This is Georgiana Darcy, the daughter of the late Mr. Darcy and the late Mrs. Darcy," the housekeeper said when she saw Elizabeth staring. "She's just turned sixteen a few weeks ago."

"And this is Mr. Darcy, I suppose?" Elizabeth's uncle said, gesturing to another photo. Elizabeth looked, and nearly flinched.

"Yes, this is Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy," the housekeeper said, and for the first time during the tour, her face broke out into a genuine smile. "Quite the young master! You'd think that growing up with everything he could ever want, he'd turn out to be a spoiled, childish young man, who'd waste his inheritance all within a month or so. But Mr. Darcy is very generous indeed, and very kind. He knows almost everyone here in Derbyshire, by name and by face. And he is so quiet, yet so thoughtful..." The housekeeper nodded slowly to herself, smiling at her master's photo. "Quite the gentleman."

Then she turned to the Gardiners and Elizabeth. "Have you ever met Mr. Darcy? No? What a shame. If he were here, he'd be happy to meet you and perhaps invite you to go fishing with him this afternoon."

"Fishing?" Uncle Tom said, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes, fishing. Mr. Darcy has quite the hand for fishing, you know. Come along, this way."

As Uncle Tom went after the housekeeper, trying in vain to bring her back to the topic of fishing, Elizabeth stayed for a bit longer to stare at Mr. Darcy's photo. He was looking straight ahead, right over Elizabeth's head. She walked to the opposite end of the room, then turned back to look at the photo. Now that she was far enough, she could imagine that his photographed eyes were looking straight at her.

"He's not here, you said?" Elizabeth murmured to no one in particular. Then, she looked around, and realized that she'd been left behind in the tour.

"Oh."

Elizabeth hurried to the doorway that the housekeeper had disappeared to, but could not hear the housekeeper's voice or her aunt's and uncle's. She stood in the doorway for a moment, then turned slowly back to the sitting room.

Sitting down in one of the long, luruxious sofas, Elizabeth leaned back to examine Mr. Darcy's photo more. He was standing in a vastly-wooden room, with a wood-framed bed behind him (luxuriously linened, of course) and a window to his right, through which light was filtering in. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves haphazardly rolled up, comfortable black slacks, and innocuous black shoes, and was leaning against the bed frame, almost sitting on it. His hair was slightly mussed, and he was looking up as if someone had walked in and caught him by surprise. A mirror stood behind him, reflecting part of his back.

Elizabeth wondered why he had such an informal picture of himself hanging in what was obviously the main sitting room. Knowing him, he would have hung up instead a portrait of himself in stiff, expensive clothes, with a mild, condescending gaze.

As she examined the painting more, seeing the spider that was crawling surreptitiously across the wooden floor and the slight tear in the curtains of the window, someone from another room started playing the piano. After a moment, Elizabeth recognized the tune—it was the song she'd played for Lady Catherine during her stay in Kent. Except whoever was playing the song was tens of times better at playing the piano than she was.

Was it...was it Mr. Darcy playing...?

Elizabeth slowly got up and followed the sounds of the piano through another doorway, and up a set of stairs. At the top of the stairs on the right was a doorway with the door opened a crack. Through the crack was flowing the piano music.

She tip-toed to the door as fast and as silently as she could and pressed an eye to the crack. She found herself gazing into another sort of sitting room, with the pastel curtains drawn and with the sunlight streaming in. The room was all white and gold, with hints of dark wood here and there. Against the opposite wall was standing a magnificent grand piano, and sitting at it was Georgiana Darcy, playing the ivory keys with her eyes closed blissfully.

Elizabeth stared at her shamelessly. She was the complete opposite of Mr. Darcy—her happiness shined through her skin and made her glow, and her smile was unrestrained, almost carefree.

Suddenly, right in front of the door passed a dark form. Elizabeth stifled a gasp as another figure moved into view, walking towards Georgiana.

"You've gotten even better, if that's possible, Georgie."

_Mr. Darcy._

Georgiana opened her eyes and looked at her brother, smiling. "I haven't gotten better—you just haven't heard music in a long time."

"Do you spend all your time just playing the piano?"

"As often as I can. I have other duties, you know; you're the one who assigned me a governess."

"I see she's not keeping you busy enough."

Georgiana stopped playing and glared at her brother. "Don't you dare pile more work on me!"

"I won't, I won't," Mr. Darcy said, chuckling—_chuckling?—_and held up his hands in mock defeat.

Georgiana smiled, and continued playing.

Elizabeth shifted a few inches to get a better view. The edge of a mirror hanging on the opposite wall slipped into sight, but Elizabeth barely noticed—until she looked in the mirror and saw Mr. Darcy staring at her.

"Elizabeth?" He said quietly.

"Who?" Georgiana asked, looking up from the piano.

Elizabeth turned and ran.

"Elizabeth!"

Down the stairs, into and out of the sitting room, and out the front door—Elizabeth sprinted as fast as her heavy winter boots would allow her. She could see a maid at the stairs stop her cleaning to stare at Elizabeth strangely.

"Stop her!" Mr. Darcy's voice came from behind. The maid stared, open-mouthed.

_Good!_ Elizabeth thought wildly. _Now just stay like that—_

Suddenly, the maid dropped her broom and jumped into Elizabeth's way, and the two collided head-on. Elizabeth yelped as she hit the ground.

In a flash, Mr. Darcy was standing beside her, helping her up. She was too dazed from the impact to react, but when she realized that she was standing, with Mr. Darcy standing before her and the maid crawling away with confused whimpers, her face reddened.

"Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Elizabeth."

By now, the maid had grabbed her broom and stumbled around a bend in the hallway. Elizabeth waited for the shuffling and the whimpering to fade away entirely before speaking.

"I'm really sorry for intruding in your home—my aunt and uncle and I were at Amorie Falls, and they wanted to see your home, and I thought—the woman who was our tourguide said you weren't home—"

Mr. Darcy shook his head once, slowly, not taking her eyes off Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked down awkwardly, her cheeks flaming. _He must hate me_.

"We're—staying at Country Inn and Suites. We just got here last night—"

Mr. Darcy nodded, and said, "I hope you're...ah, having a nice trip."

"Oh yes, Amorie Falls was very nice, and your home is very beautiful. Especially the gardens," Elizabeth blabbed. "We're leaving tomorrow morning—"

"Tomorrow?" Mr. Darcy interrupted, with a catch in his voice.

Elizabeth tried not to look in his face as she nodded. "Yes, tomorrow."

"Do you know where your aunt and uncle are right now?"

"No, I lost them when I wandered away from the tourguide..."

"Ah. Just like you, to go wandering off on your own."

Elizabeth giggled nervously at his tense joking. He might have smiled—she wouldn't know, since she was staring at his shoes.

"I'll go find them right now," she said.

"Do you want me to go with—"

"No. N—" Elizabeth stopped short right, and smiled nervously. "I...I can find them by myself. Th—thank you." She dared to look up, and they stared at each other for a moment, before Elizabeth bowed her head in a jerky farewell and turned heel, sprinting through the front door.

* * *

**A/N:** Had a rough week...sorry about updating so late, but it really couldn't be helped. D:

Please review! I miss hearing from you guys every day ;_;

-Sanded Silk-


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry for updating so slowly! It's just that school attacked me full-on; all seven teachers assigning at least an hour of homework each night...you can imagine how much of a life I have right now.

...Sixteenth chapter? Must be.

**Disclaimer: blargh.**

**-**Sanded Silk-

* * *

Elizabeth took a long time wandering the borders of Pemberley Place, waiting for her heartbeat to return to normal rate, before returning—with some difficulty—to the mansion. She cut around the mansion to the back, having seen peaks of a sort of winter wonderland in the back. Even in the winter, it seemed, there was something to be seen in the gardens.

As she weaved around the pine trees and fountains, she heard voices in the distance. Following the voice, she stopped behind a pine tree and peered through its branches to see who was talking.

It was her aunt and uncle! _Oh thank God_, Elizabeth thought, nearly stepping out into the open. _Now we can leave—_

She stopped short and dove back behind the tree when she saw that her aunt and uncle were chatting with someone else. Peering more closely, she saw the unmistakable silhouette of Mr. Darcy, with his back turned towards her. The three seemed to be chatting animatedly about something. Finally, Mr. Darcy seemed to excuse himself and turned away to leave, thankfully not coming towards Elizabeth.

Elizabeth counted to fifteen before coming innocuously out from behind the pine tree.

"Oh there you are, Elizabeth. Where did you wander off to? We just left the sitting room, and you were gone! Well, it doesn't matter, since you're here now. Do you know who you just missed?" Her aunt rambled.

"Um, no. Who?"

"Mr. Darcy himself! I thought the maid said he wasn't home, but he came back for a quick visit to his sister, it seems. He was very kind, almost regal. He told us that he'd seen you in the mansion, wandering around by yourself, and he invited your uncle to go fishing with him tomorrow!"

"And I plan to go through with the invitation and wear it sheer. You don't mind staying another day here, do you? I know that you don't have much winter break homework to cope with anyway."

_How did he know_? Elizabeth wondered as she nodded vaguely. The possibility of meeting with—_talking to—_Mr. Darcy again was overwhelmingly frightening.

"Good!" Uncle Tom said brightly, before lumbering off, humming, Aunt Rose by his side.

Elizabeth watched them leave with a sinking feeling.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Staying for another day," Elizabeth wrote in an e-mail to Jane later that night. "Tell mom and dad for me please? Don't wanna deal with mom's general nosiness." She clicked the send button and logged off with a sigh.

_Well crap._

How was she going to get out of visiting with the Darcys? It seemed, from the way her uncle and aunt were talking about the fishing expedition, that Elizabeth was expected to join them for a whole morning of sitting by a lake and waiting for stupid fish to bite the hook. All the while in the presence of Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth leaned her forehead against her laptop screen with another heavy sigh. She couldn't make head or tail of his reaction to her sudden appearance in his home. He seemed civil enough, and willing to go through with his proposal of 'just being friends', but Elizabeth had no doubt that he hated her to the core. And could she blame him?

After assuming so many things about him—and being so embarrassingly _wrong_—how could she not?

Of course, there was still the need to confirm his claim about his—er, history—with Mr. Wickham. But confirmation could easily be wheedled out of his cousin, that Matthew fellow. And his separating Jane and Mr. Bingley, to save Mr. Bingley from unnecessary heartache, was understandable. Jane _had_ been very restrained throughout their short time together, and Elizabeth _had_ neglected passing Charlotte's advice about being restrained to Jane. And the price was being paid—by Bingley, and by the whole Bennet family. Except maybe Lydia, who never really cared about the whole thing in the first place.

Elizabeth closed her laptop and yanked out the electrical cord from the socket. She actually wouldn't mind being friends with Mr. Darcy, now that she thought about it. He was very austere, and shy to the point of pompousness, true, but he seemed like an interesting person to get to know, and a qualified debate opponent. And he had proven himself trustworthy. He'd probably chosen to keep his sister's near-scandal with Mr. Wickham a secret to protect her from eternal disgrace.

Knowing this made Elizabeth feel worse about herself, and even more in awe for Mr. Darcy. How deeply he really seemed to think things through!

The third sigh was filled with regret. Had she not been so assuming, she wouldn't be in this mess.

And there was the whole thing about dating Mr. Darcy?

Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat up, and buried her face in her pillow, grateful for her own hotel room. She hated to admit it, but she wouldn't mind dating Mr. Darcy. She felt like slapping herself.

_Aaugh_, Elizabeth moaned in her head. _What am I going to do now?_

-o-o-o-o-o-

Needless to say, all throughout the fishing adventure Elizabeth refused to even look at Mr. Darcy, for fear of being unable to look away and—even worse—being caught staring shamelessly. So she missed all of the subtle, pained glances that Mr. Darcy paid her whenever he was sure that no one was looking.

As they walked back from fishing, listening to Uncle Tom's enthusiastic babblings about winter fishing, Elizabeth was focused intently on the bare branches passing over her head and completely missed a patch of ice. She put her foot down on it carelessly, and immediately lost balance, her feet sliding out from underneath her. Her stomach didn't have time to jerk before she was caught and set gently back on her feet.

_Oh crap. Don't tell me—_

She looked up at whoever had caught her, and found herself staring at Mr. Darcy's collar. She stared at it, wide-eyed.

"Again, Miss Elizabeth? Your sense of balance isn't exactly on the strong side, is it?"

She tried to smile. Failed miserably. Mumbling an incoherent 'thank you', she turned away to walk on. But Mr. Darcy grabbed her hand. She whipped her head around, suddenly furious. "What!"

He pointed wordlessly at the ground in front of her, and she saw that if he hadn't stopped her, she would have slipped on yet another patch of ice. She gingerly stepped around the ice, and when she'd gotten to a safe patch of mud, she turned her head around—just enough for Mr. Darcy to see the line of her jaw past her curtain of hair.

"Thanks," she said, more coherently this time.

"You're welcome."

She stared at the grey-brown bark of the tall trees lining the path for a moment, struggling to see Mr. Darcy in her peripheral vision. His hair was ruffled from the biting wind, and his face was frigid-white. But his eyes were as blue as ever, staring straight into her face, searching. Waiting.

She turned away, pulling her hand out of his, and continued walking.

-o-o-o-o-o-

For the rest of the afternoon, Elizabeth found herself in the company of Miss Georgiana Darcy. Since she didn't know what to expect, now that her previous views of Mr. Darcy had been shaken to the core, so she saw in the piano room and watched as Georgiana sat down across from her.

"So you met my brother in Hertfordshire?" Georgiana asked, smiling.

To Elizabeth, such a bright smile was a good sign, so she tentatively smiled back. "Yes. He was with his friend, Joseph Bingley."

"Ah yes, Joseph. Those two are such close friends." Georgiana smiled wider. "So how did my brother act around so many strangers? I'd imagine he wasn't exactly very sociable."

Elizabeth was taken aback by Georgiana's straightforward teasing of her brother. "Um...no, he was actually...very...polite."

Georgiana laughed. "Don't lie to me, Elizabeth. I know my brother better than I know my own room. Around strangers, he isn't the most welcoming of people, and he certainly doesn't like talking to strangers with ease."

"Uh..." Elizabeth let her words dissolve into nervous laughter. _What should I say?_

"He seems to rather like you, though."

"Really?" Even though he'd asked her to date him, Elizabeth still hadn't quite gotten the fact that he _liked_ her.

"Oh yes. Usually, he comes to me and talks about everyone he's met who he feels deigns to entertain his attention. Usually, he talks about both the good and the bad, but with you there was only good."

"Only good?" Elizabeth asked. She felt like her stomach was soaring and plummeting at the same time.

"Only good. In fact, I'd say that he likes you."

_He likes me._

"Th-that's absurd!" Elizabeth nearly cried, laughing erratically. "During our first dance, he proclaimed me 'not pretty enough' to tempt him—"

Georgiana's laughing face froze. "He what?"

"Oh." Elizabeth thought desperately to undo what she'd said. "No, he didn't really mean that, I think. And he didn't say it in my face—I happened to overhear him talking to Mr. Bingley. And I don't blame him, I'm not exactly the prettiest girl on the block—"

"No, it's just that from what he was saying about you, I'd never guess that he called you 'not pretty enough' for him."

"Sorry, but what exactly did he say about me?"

"He said that you were intelligent, witty, bright-eyed, and that it was refreshing to see you unconsciously aggravating Miss Bingley."

"Well, the 'unconscious' part is definitely right. I never realized that my dislike for her was so apparent to her."

"Oh no, it's not that. She felt threatened by you. At least, that's what Will thinks. He thinks that Miss Bingley considered you a threat to her marrying Will, even though Will has made it quite clear that such a thin will never happen. He hates her, you see."

"Oh yes, I could tell."

Georgiana laughed happily. "Oh! And he also said that you played the piano wonderfully at his aunt's house."

"You mean at Lady Catherine de Bourgh's? Then I'm afraid he lied to you completely. I sounded—I think I said this to him—I sounded like a chicken pecking at the ground."

"No one plays that terribly! Come on, do you play duets?"

"Never in my life."

"Then now is the time to start!" Georgiana lept up, grabbed Elizabeth's hand, and dragged her to the piano, all the while laughing gleefully. Elizabeth wondered as she was dragged, _how could such a high-spirited girl be sister to such a restrained, mature young man?_

-o-o-o-o-o-

During dinner that night, at Pemberley Place, Elizabeth was pushing her spoon around in her thick chicken broth, imagining that it was the fin of a shark, breaking through the water, slicing ephemeral paths across the sloshing tide—

"Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth looked up. A maid was standing beside her, with one of the hundreds of wireless telephones in the mansion. "Phone call for you."

"Oh!" Elizabeth said, standing to take the phone outside of the dining hall, where it was quiet. She waited until the maid had left, then pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth."

"Jane? Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Very wrong. You must come home at once, with Uncle Tom and Aunt Rose."

"What happened?"

"Terrible. I can't believe she'd—of all stupid—"

"Jane?"

"Lydia ran away."

"...What?"

"With Mr. Wickham."

"WHAT?"

Jane sighed on the other end. "While she was with the Forsters, she left a note saying that she planned on marrying Mr. Wickham and disappeared with him. Daddy's already gone down to look for her, but she didn't leave much of a trail."

"She ran away."

"Yes."

"With _Wickham_."

"Yes."

"I'll be home as soon as I can."

Elizabeth pressed the 'end' button, and leaned against the wall for support, staring at the ceiling to regain her wits.

Lydia had run off with Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth wasn't as worried about her family's reputation as she was about Lydia's well-being. If only Elizabeth had been open with her family about what was going on, perhaps she could have warned everyone about what Mr. Wickham did to Mr. Darcy—

By the time Elizabeth made her way back into the dining hall, tears were streaming down her face. Mr. Darcy took one look at her and stood up quickly.

"Miss Elizabeth?"

She looked at him, confused, pleading. "Mr. Darcy."

As people around the dining table realized that she had come in sobbing, Mr. Darcy quickly made his way around the table to her, stopping a safe distance in front of her.

"Miss Elizabeth?" He repeated.

Elizabeth stared at his concerned face for a minute, then numbly said, "Lydia's run away with Mr. Wickham."

Mr. Darcy tilted his head to the side, uncomprehending. "Lydia...with Mr. Wickham...?"

"Yes. My youngest sister. She's run away. With Mr. Wickham." And as Mr. Darcy's face paled, Elizabeth burst into fresh tears.

* * *

**A/N:** So that's that for now. I'm reeally sorry about the slow updates, but all I can say is school. It's all I can do to stay afloat in BC Calc...arrgh.

So anyway, please let me know that you're still with me by reviewing! :D

-Sanded Silk-


	17. Chapter 17

So it's the end of the quarter. Finals are piling up...mock trial is looming closer...piano teacher is as strict as ever...aaaaaargh.

Well, anyways. Next chapter of this story is finally here! D: Please review. I miss hearing from you guys ;_;

**Disclaimer: I'm too tired to come up with any interesting way to say 'I don't own anything', so I'll just stick with 'I don't own anything'.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

"Did she say anything else?"

"No, Aunt Rose."

"Are you sure? Nothing else?"

"Aunt Rose, Jane's phone call was ten seconds long."

"But a lot can happen in ten seconds! For example, your uncle's proposal—"

"Now dear, let's not go into that."

Elizabeth couldn't find it in herself to smile at her uncle's and aunt's awkward moment. Slouching in the bland sofa of her hotel room, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand for the millionth time. Dinner had been all but abandoned, and everyone had rushed to Elizabeth, demanding to know what was wrong. After an almost-panicked confusion, Elizabeth had sat everyone down and told them.

Her uncle cleared his throat. "Anyway. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning, at—pardon me—dawn."

Silence.

"So we'd better start packing," Aunt Rose hurried on, and bustled for the door, dragging Uncle Tom with her. Before they shut the door behind themselves, Aunt Rose popped her head back in.

"Do you want me to pack up for you, Lizzy? You don't look quite fit to do it by yourself."

It was true; Elizabeth felt like her limbs were awkward blocks of solid stone. "Sure. Thanks."

Aunt Rose closed the door quietly behind herself. Just as Elizabeth closed her eyes, someone knocked on the main door. Aunt Rose's fluttery, uneven footsteps skip-hopped to the door. The door squeaked open, and a surprised "Mr. Darcy!" floated through Elizabeth's closed door.

Curiously, Elizabeth couldn't find the willpower to dread Mr. Darcy's arrival, and watched numbly as he opened the door to the room and stared at her for a moment, before closing the door behind himself and walking to her. He stood awkwardly for a moment.

"Sit down?" Elizabeth said simply, nodding at the sofa on the other side of the battered coffee table. He sat down slowly, and said nothing. It slowly occurred to Elizabeth that he was waiting for her to talk.

She sighed. "Mr. Darcy."

"Yes?" He answered quickly.

"Is there something you need?"

"I came to...ah, to ask you if there was anything that could indicate where your sister and Wickham are."

"There is nothing. Knowing Lydia, she could be in France right now. Or in the Bahamas."

"Where were your sister and Wickham before they disappeared?"

"Brighton. But knowing that won't help you."

"Actually, it might." Mr. Darcy shifted in his seat. "I know that one of Wickham's second cousins lives in Brighton. She might know a thing or two."

"But don't you think that Mr. Wickham would avoid being recognized by anyone he knows?"

"He may not suspect that you should ever know of his second cousin. Besides, if he's going to run off, he's going to need money; and he's never got much money on him, not with all that gambling and losing."

Elizabeth's mind was beyond frazzled, so she just covered her face in her hands and groaned.

"This is my fault," she mumbled. "If I had been open with my family about what Wickham had done before, maybe this wouldn't be happening right now."

"No, it's my fault," Mr. Darcy countered quietly. "I should have exposed Wickham a long time ago."

"And ruin your sister's reputation forever? There's nothing you could have done without hurting your sister."

Mr. Darcy just shook his head, lost in thought. Elizabeth watched his concentrated face, and wondered what exactly he was hiding from her.

He stood up abruptly. "I—" He cut himself silent, as if he nearly told a secret that wasn't his to tell. He looked around the room, then at Elizabeth. They stared, for a thick moment, at each other. And without a word, he left.

Elizabeth stood up on wobbly legs and walked as quickly as she could to the window, pulling the curtains back. Mr. Darcy presently emerged from the front doors, and Elizabeth watched as he climbed into his car and drove away. She stood at the window for a long time.

* * *

**A/N**: Aaagh, short chapter, I know. Actually, short is rather the understatement...bleeeeh.

I'm really sorry for the abrupt cut-off! I just feel like if I decide to dive on into the next scene, I won't ever get my schoolwork done... -sickface-

Please review! ...Even though there isn't much to review on.

-Sanded Silk-


	18. Chapter 18

Soo, on with the story! Hope you all had a nice Halloween, yesyes? I did XD

**Disclaimer: the usual.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

Once home, Uncle Tom took off to Brighton, where he promised to join the search in place of Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth dropped her bags in her room, and when she turned around, Jane was standing at the doorway, with puffy red eyes.

"When Mom cries, it's hard not to join in," Jane said simply. Elizabeth nodded, feeling the tears well up. After a cry, it was always easy to start up again soon afterward.

"Speaking of Mom, she wants to see you."

"Where is she?"

"In her room, playing the sick, fragile mistress."

"Of course." Elizabeth followed her sister into her mother's room. Aunt Rose was already there, sitting in a chair at the foot of Mrs. Bennet's bed. Mrs. Bennet looked up at Elizabeth, then seemed to sag with relief, as if she'd expected Elizabeth to run off with some other man.

"Oh, Lizzy, you don't know how happy I am to see you," Mrs. Bennet said breathily; then to Kitty, "Fan harder, child." Kitty suppressed a sigh and waved the fan faster.

"So that's all there is to it?" Elizabeth prompted. "Lydia just ran off with Wickham without a word, and Dad and Uncle Tom are looking for them?"

"Yup," Mary said.

"I don't know how we'll live on," Mrs. Bennet wailed. Kitty fanned faster still, but it didn't seem to do much.

"If anyone else in Derbyshire finds out, Lydia will be ruined; you all will be ruined," Mrs. Bennet continued. "Who would want to marry the sister of such an uneducated, childish, _embarrassing_ girl?" A fresh wave of tears and spasms overcame Mrs. Bennet.

Elizabeth sat down beside her mother and stroked her mother's hair aimlessly. Doing so seemed to calm Mrs. Bennet down, and presently, Mrs. Bennet was snoring.

Jane breathed a long sigh, and Kitty's fanning arm drooped. Mary glanced around, then left the room in search for a good book to pass the time.

"We won't be hearing from either Dad or Uncle for awhile," Elizabeth conjectured. Jane nodded.

"So the only thing we can do is wait," Aunt Rose said with a long sigh. Everyone else sighed, and there wasn't much else to do except sit and despair.

-o-o-o-o-o-

As Mr. Bennet walked in through the front door, the phone rang. Kitty spun in circles, trying to find the lost phone, while Jane, Elizabeth, and a suddenly-energized Mrs. Bennet ran to the front door to batter their father with questions. Mary and Aunt Rose wisely stood aside, watching on.

"Did you find anything?"

"Did you find _Lydia_?"

"Of course he didn't find Lydia, or else we'd have heard her screams miles away—"

Mr. Bennet held up his hands. "I found nothing, but your Uncle is running around like a madman in my place, and I'm too tired to worry about your Uncle's competence, so let's just say we leave it at that, and I'm going to bed. Now."

Kitty popped her head into the room. "Phone for Dad."

With a groan, Mr. Bennet took the phone and held it to his ear as he struggled with his winter boots. "Hello?"

"Who is it?" Elizabeth mouthed to Kitty.

"Uncle Tom," Kitty mouthed back. Elizabeth turned to look at her father with wide, waiting eyes.

Mr. Bennet stopped tugging at his boots. "You found them?"

Everyone in the room jumped.

"Where?"

Pause.

"Well, that's..." Mr. Bennet slouched, and closed his eyes momentarily. Elizabeth saw the relief in his face, and inwardly cheered.

Mr. Bennet straightened. "They're _what_?"

Another thick pause.

"When do they plan on returning?...Just to visit?...We'll figure _that_ out later. The main thing is I have a talk with Lydia, and with this Wickham fellow...Yes...Yes. I'll tell Rose. Thank you, Tom." Mr. Bennet stared at the phone for a long time before he hung up.

"WELL?" Mrs. Bennet screeched, followed by a senseless clamor from the girls and Aunt Rose.

After a long time, Mr. Bennet had finally gotten everyone to quiet down, and he told them all:

"Uncle Tom's found them."

"We know _that_!"

"Shush, let him go on!"

"I'm not exactly sure what he was saying, but I think he found them...in Brighton, of all places."

"...In Brighton."

"Yes."

"Where you were for, what, the past three days?"

"Brighton is a big place! Now be quiet. According to Tom, they're both all right; they're not in any sort of trouble that he knows of. And they're...married."

"..."

"Yes."

"MARRIED?"

"Yes."

"THEY'RE..."

"Married, yes."

"How are you taking it so seriously?"

"According to Tom, that's the story. They're coming over to visit us...tomorrow, I think it was. And they're leaving the next day to who-knows-where."

"But you're not going to try to stop this? At all?"

"What's the point? Lydia's beyond in love with the Wickham fellow, and he seems to reciprocate the love."

Elizabeth shook her head slightly. _Not possible_.

"...So that's that? They're going to come around tomorrow, and just...leave?" Kitty said quietly.

"I'm afraid so, yes," Mr. Bennet said, nodding slowly.

Mrs. Bennet was quiet the whole time. But as the silence wore on, she stubbornly broke it.

"Well," she said. Everyone looked at her, not knowing what to expect. "Well," she repeated, "I must...go tell Mrs. Lucas."

She nodded to herself, then scuttled off to her room. Before she closed the door, she shouted "Everyone shall have a bowl of punch!" down the hall, she slammed the door shut, and was on the phone for the next hour.

Mr. Bennet went straight to his office and shut the door. Elizabeth tottered into the living room and sat down heavily. "Married...and she's in high school! Isn't that illegal?"

"I'm hoping that by 'married', Uncle Tom meant 'hopelessly-inseparable'," Jane said, ever the optimist.

"We'll just have to see tomorrow," Mary said matter-of-factly.

Kitty just nodded dumbly, staring out of a window into the snowy city. Elizabeth watched her for a moment, sympathetic. Lydia had been Kitty's closest friend within the household; and now that Lydia had so unhesitantly left Kitty for Wickham, Kitty was sure to suffer.

Jane covered her face with one hand. "I can't believe...of all stupid things...!"

"But at least she wasn't...er, taken advantage of by Wickham and left in the gutter," Elizabeth said. "I can't believe he agreed to marry her! At such a young age, and with such a light head! Uncle Tom must have persuaded them to marry. I wonder how he did it."

"Bribery, for sure," Jane said automatically.

"If bribery, it must have been a lot of money," Mary said. "And if bribery, boy, do we owe Uncle Tom."

Elizabeth put her hand to her mouth. "Lydia," she sighed. No one talked for a long time.

* * *

**A/N:** Done done! And much longer than that last chapter, for sure. XD Thank goodness for four-day weekends.

Please review! ...-sigh-

*embarrassing typos fixed. ;_;

-Sanded Silk-


	19. Chapter 19

Hmm...so maybe I can get Lizzy and Darcy to meet each other again in this chapter. Depends on how hungry I am in half an hour 9_9

**Disclaimer: La la la...**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

Everyone crowded around the door as Lydia sauntered in, but suddenly, no one knew what to say. Only Mr. Bennet didn't look awkward; instead, he looked too angry to trust himself to speak. Thus, Lydia and a slightly-less-confident Mr. Wickham entered the Bennet household.

Lydia looked at everyone. "Well? Happy to see me?"

"Not particularly, no," Elizabeth bit. "What were you thinking, to just run off and get married like that? And you barely know Wickham at all!"

"I knew what I was doing," Lydia snipped, tossing a strand of curly hair over a shoulder. "And I love George; that's all I need to know."

Elizabeth glared at Mr. Wickham, willing him to know that Mr. Darcy had revealed all to her. Mr. Wickham glanced at Elizabeth uneasily, and looked away almost immediately.

At dinner, Elizabeth reluctantly sat down beside Lydia, who was joyously recounting the details of the wedding to a conflicted Kitty and a strangely-proud Mrs. Bennet. Mr. Bennet, on the other end of the table, was pinning Mr. Wickham down with questions, much to Elizabeth's satisfaction.

"Oh, Lizzy!" Lydia turned to Elizabeth suddenly. "You're quite out of the loop on everything, aren't you?" Lydia happily turned full on to Elizabeth, and took a swig of...of whatever it was she was drinking...before continuing.

"You must want to know everything, don't you? Of course you do. Well, the hours before our wedding was to happen, I was only thinking about one thing. Do you know what it was? George, of course. The sleeves of my dress..."

Elizabeth tuned Lydia's voice into the back of her mind as she ate her dinner forkful by forkful and nodded at the seemingly-right times.

Suddenly, the words "Mr. Darcy" penetrated Elizabeth's thoughts. She jumped. "Mr. Darcy? What?"

Lydia stopped short, placing a hand on her cheek. "Oh no! I promised—not to—Mr. Darcy—"

Elizabeth looked around; no one seemed to have heard anything. Leaning over to Lydia, she murmured, "Mr. Darcy? What did he do?"

"Mr. Darcy—he was at our wedding," Lydia said conspiratorially. "He paid for everything—for the wedding, for George's commissioning—everything! And I heard him and Uncle talking about bribing George to do something else...I never found out what that was, come to think of it."

Lydia frowned, and turned to call to Wickham. Elizabeth didn't pay any attention; she couldn't. Staring down at her food, Elizabeth suddenly felt sick. Turning back to Lydia, she asked, "Mr. Darcy?" only to be ignored. Elizabeth looked around at everyone else, wondering if they had heard, but no one seemed to have heard.

She looked back down at her food numbly. What else could she do?

-o-o-o-o-o-

Aunt Rose left shortly to meet her husband at their home. Lydia and Mr. Wickham left shortly after Aunt Rose left, leaving behind an awkwardly-quiet house. Everyone sought solace in their own safe-havens, trying to distract themselves and failing miserably.

Finally, the phone rang. Everyone dived to answer, and after a tussle, the phone ended up in Mrs. Bennet's hands.

"H-Hello? Hello?" Mrs. Bennet said, breathless. Her gasping pants stopped short as the person on the other end talked.

"What?"

Everyone watched as Mrs. Bennet's face paled.

"Well..." Mrs. Bennet blinked rapidly, pulling herself out of her shock. "Well. I don't see why you think we'd care, of all people. Um—but you're sure he's coming?...Alone, you say...You're sure?...Of course I don't care, of course...Yes. Good-bye." Mrs. Bennet hung up the phone, and stood still for a long moment.

"Well?" Mrs. Bennet said.

"Mr. Bingley is coming to his mansion here in Hertfordshire. Tomorrow."

Elizabeth glanced at Jane, who resolutely avoided everyone's eyes.

"He's...really coming?"

"According to Mrs. Lucas, yes," Mrs. Bennet said, and seemed to recover slightly. "You have to wonder how Mrs. Lucas knows this before I do..."

"And he's coming alone?"

"Apparently, yes. Goodness, what if he comes to visit? What should we all say? Jane, act as aloof as you possibly can, just to test his motives—no, don't do that, you'll discourage him—but he needs _something_ to—"

"Mom, I don't think he's going to visit," Jane said quietly.

"Why ever not?" Mrs. Bennet asked, concerned. Jane looked at the floor, at the ceiling, at Elizabeth, then back at her mother.

"Let's just...let's just not assume that he wants to come see me, all right? I did something wrong, I somehow wasn't good enough for him—he's not coming back. He's not." And before anyone could say anything, Jane was bounding up the stairs to her room.

Elizabeth appeared at Jane's door as soon as she could persuade the rest of her family to stay downstairs. Jane looked up at Elizabeth with red eyes, then quickly looked back down at her clenched hands.

"He's not coming back."

Elizabeth sighed. "Yes he is, Jane—"

"No he's not!" Jane nearly shouted.

Elizabeth looked at her sister for a moment. "Well," she said, walking into the room to hug her sister, "we'll just see what happens, all right?"

Jane stared out the window, then rubbed her eyes fiercely with her sleeve. "Yeah. We'll see."

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Today's when Mr. Bingley is supposed to make his big appearance, right?" Mr. Bennet said at breakfast the next day.

"According to Mrs. Lucas," Mary said, and paused to swallow her mouthful of oatmeal. "Mrs. Lucas isn't the most trustworthy person to listen to nowadays, what with the whole Mr. Collins rendezvous."

"Oh, Mr. Collins." Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

Mrs. Bennet put down her fork, all seriousness. "Now Lizzy, Mr. Collins is not someone you can just—"

The doorbell rang. Everyone looked up like animals smelling danger.

"Is that—?" Kitty breathed.

"It can't be—" Mary reasoned.

"Open the door, for heaven's sake!" Mrs. Bennet screeched, and took back her command as she herself flew into the front hall. Everyone heard the front door bang open, and within moments, Mr. Bingley rushed in.

"Jane?" He demanded. "Where's Jane—?" His eyes fell on Jane, and they stared at each other for a long, long moment.

Mr. Darcy rushed in. "Where is—? Oh."

Elizabeth started. "Mr. Darcy!"

Mr. Darcy looked at her, paused, and nodded. "Miss Elizabeth."

"You are—here?"

"Yes I am."

"And how—was—your trip?"

"It was...very nice. Thank you for asking."

"Um..." Elizabeth racked her brains for something to say, but the silence dwindled on, until Mr. Darcy broke eye contact to look at his friend. Neither Jane nor Mr. Bingley had looked away from each other, or spoken a word.

Finally, Mr. Bingley, without looking away, said, "Would everyone mind if—? Um, I'd like to have a moment with Jane. Alone."

Mrs. Bennet looked between Mr. Bingley and Jane, open-mouthed, before comprehending. "Oh! Of—of course! Everyone, out. Immediately. Oh, of course, except for you, Jane. You stay—here. Yes. Everyone out!" Mrs. Bennet unnecessarily hurried everyone out of the room, closed the door, and shamelessly pressed her ear against the door. Elizabeth suddenly found herself standing next to Mr. Darcy.

Mrs. Bennet scowled. "Oh, darn, I can't hear what they're saying—"

"Dear, I think you should really give them some privacy," Mr. Bennet sighed.

"Shh! Your talking isn't helping," Mrs. Bennet snapped.

Elizabeth fumbled with her sweater buttons, not hearing a word of what everyone else was saying. She didn't dare sneak a glance at Mr. Darcy, in case he should catch her peeking. She spent the next few moments trying to think of something to say, anything to cut the awkward silence between them. But she couldn't think of anything meaningful, anything that wasn't awkward or crude or something else that wouldn't please him.

Before she knew it, Jane and Mr. Bingley were opening the door, smiling, Jane blushing. Mrs. Bennet attacked them with questions and screeching, and everyone else tried in vain to restrain her. And then Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were leaving, waving good-bye at an ecstatic Mrs. Bennet and a shy—but happy—Jane. And Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to wave back; she could only stare at Mr. Darcy, and stare, and stare, and look away when he looked at her.

And then he was gone.

Elizabeth tried her best to listen as Jane gushed about what had happened between herself and Mr. Bingley when they finally escaped from Mrs. Bennet, who had gone to Mrs. Lucas to brag.

"Do you know why he left, Lizzy? Because he thought I didn't like him! He said that whenever he was around, I blushed and looked away and kept avoiding his touches—I feel so bad about it, Lizzy. I can't believe I gave such an impression—But now it's okay. We're—we're—"

"You're dating now."

"Yes. That." Jane blushed harder, and buried her face into her hands, laughing happily. Elizabeth's smile disappeared as soon as Jane couldn't see her.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was late that night when the doorbell rang again. Mr. Bennet was the first to reach the door. Bracing himself against the cold, he cracked the door open, then immediately swung the door wide when he saw who it was.

Lady Catherine, in all her winter finery, was standing at the doorway, peering into the house with skeptical, imperious eyes.

"Lady Catherine!" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. "Oh, do please come in—"

"Would you like anything to drink?" Mr. Bennet offered.

"No thank you," Lady Catherine said serenely as she stepped into the house, allowing Mr. Bennet to close the door behind her.

"I came," Lady Catherine continued, "to talk to Miss Elizabeth. Alone, if you all don't mind."

"A...Alone?" Elizabeth looked at Lady Catherine quizzically, but all she received was a staunch "yes" and a borderline-glare. Everyone fairly ran for the next room.

"Is something wrong?" Elizabeth asked.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Lady Catherine said. Elizabeth could see the veil of civility drop.

"What is it?"

"I became aware the other day that my nephew made a proposal to you."

"...Of what?"

"Of courtship."

"...Where did you hear this from?"

"That is no business of yours. I came here to ask for confirmation: is this sickening rumor true?"

"And how is it so sickening, if I may ask?"

Lady Catherine's chin rose a notch. "I'll have you know, here and now, that my nephew is not to marry any _commoner_. He is already engaged with my daughter, Anne."

Elizabeth's stomach hitched, but she forced her face to remain stony. "If he is already engaged, I can't imagine why you would think that he would want to court me."

"I did not come here to be smart-mouthed by a girl of _your_ status, with _your_ type of family, and such a sister who runs off and marries without a second thought. And who knows how much your uncle had to pay Mr. Wickham to get the poor young man to take such a girl as wife?"

Elizabeth's face burned, but she kept her mouth shut. _Best keep it shut_, she reasoned with herself. It was very nearly in vain.

"I _did_ come here, however, to make it known that under no circumstances will I ever allow my nephew—my handsome, talented nephew—to court a girl such as you."

Silence.

"Tell me, girl. Did Fitzwilliam ever make such a request of you?"

Elizabeth lifted her chin to match Lady Catherine's. "No. He did not."

"And if he does, do I have your word that you will not accept?"

It was all Elizabeth could do to keep her chin from dropping. "Yes. You have my word."

Lady Catherine seemed satisfied. Elizabeth took this chance to stride to the front door, opening it as wide as it would go. "You have insulted me in every way possible, and can not have anything else to say. Please do both of us a favor and leave."

The lady's face grew red, then purple. "I have never been thus treated in my life!" And with that, Lady Catherine swept out of the house.

As soon as the door banged closed, the door into the kitchen burst open, and out flooded all of the other Bennets.

"What did she want?"

"Is it about Mr. Bingley?"

"Lizzy, what's going on?"

Elizabeth pushed past all of them and ran to her room, locking the door behind herself and drawing the curtains before allowing herself to cry.

* * *

**A/N:** Here you go, a nice, long chapter! ...And it's waaaay past when I should be going to sleep. Arrrgh.

You know what to do with that review button there.

-Sanded Silk-


	20. Chapter 20

So this chapter, I think, will end the story. ...WAAAH I WANT TO CRYYYY D:

**Disclaimer: the person who owns this story is dead, so I can't buy the rights from her no matter how much I want to.**

-Sanded Silk-

* * *

As soon as she could the next morning, Elizabeth got outside. In her usual coat and snow boots, she walked through the lazily-drifting snowfall to the Coffee Nook, and just sat at a table. Only one person was on duty. Elizabeth was glad that it was someone she didn't know. For a long time, she didn't move—just stared straight ahead, thinking.

It was too late to start over with Mr. Darcy, wasn't it?

And suddenly she felt like crying.

Overhead, the song playing on the radio ended, and the hostess' voice crackled. "And it looks like we have someone calling in with a dedication! Hello?"

There was a pause. Then: "Yes."

"Is there something you'd like me to play? Is it for anyone in particular?"

"Yes. Um. I feel like I've gone wrong with...with a young woman I really like. Some...er, complicated things sprang up around us, and there were a whole bunch of misunderstandings, and...um. I just feel like there were a lot of things I could have done to prevent the mess that she and I are in right now."

"Care to share?"

"It's...it's a long story."

"All right. Would you at least give me your name?"

"Will."

"And her name?"

"She's...she's Lizzy."

Elizabeth stared at the speaker in the ceiling.

"All right Will, do you have any song in mind?"

"Um...actually, yes. 'Hallelujah,' by Jeff Buckley?"

"Okie-dokie. Wow, no one's requested that song for awhile. I'll play it for you, Will. And good luck with whatever sort of trouble you're in with Lizzy."

"Th...thanks."

As the lone guitar quietly flooded the room, Elizabeth looked around. No one else seemed to realize what was happening, so she continued listening to the radio intently. Was it really—? Could it be—?

_Well I heard there was a secret chord_  
_that David played and it pleased the Lord_  
_But you don't really care for music, do you?_  
_Well it goes like this:_  
_The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift_  
_The baffled king composing Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah..._

Elizabeth let the words wash over her face like rain, and wished with all her being that it was really Mr. Darcy dedicating the song to Elizabeth Bennet.

_Baby I've been here before_  
_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor, _  
_I used to live alone before I knew you_  
_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_  
_and love is not a victory march_  
_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah _  
_Hallelujah _  
_Hallelujah _  
_Hallelujah..._

And if it was from him—from Mr. Darcy—then what did it mean? What was he saying? The words were going by too fast for her to stop and wring each line dry for analysis, for meaning, for symbolism. So she gave up trying and just let the music wash over her. It was oddly easy to just give in, to stop resisting, to follow the sway and the flow.

Someone was walking by the window—she could see at the corner of her eye. The person seemed to stop, seemed to just stand there beside her, on the other side of the glass. She looked.

_Well your faith was strong but you needed proof_  
_You saw her bathing on the roof_  
_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you_  
_And she tied you to her kitchen chair_  
_She broke your throne and she cut your hair_  
_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah..._

The tears came quickly, silently. She didn't try to stop them; neither did Mr. Darcy.

As the song ended, Elizabeth rose slowly from her seat and walked through the door to where he was. He stood quietly, watching her come closer and closer.

"You don't look so well," he said, breaking the thick silence.

She laughed. "I didn't sleep much last night."

"Neither did I."

Elizabeth looked up into his electric blue eyes with such ease that it surprised her. He returned her gaze with an equal lack of difficulty.

"My aunt visited you last night?" He asked.

"Yes." And Elizabeth looked away.

"How can I pay you back for the way she treated you?" He murmured.

Elizabeth laughed again, nervously, still staring at the snow-slathered sidewalk. "It should be_ me_ paying _you_ back. After what you've done for your sister, for Mr. Bingley, for Lydia, and I'm guessing for Jane as well..." She shook her head, not knowing how to express what she was feeling.

"Is everything all right at home now?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

Elizabeth glanced up at him. "Yes, really."

"How are you?"

"I'm..." Elizabeth looked off to the side for a long moment. "I think I'm okay. I'm better, anyway."

"That's good."

"Yes." A sob was welling up in her throat, a sob that—for the first time—she couldn't explain. She made the mistake of glancing up at Mr. Darcy, who was watching her with so much concern that it ripped open the doors of her heart. She buried her face into her cold hands and sobbed like a relieved child.

"I'm sorry," she managed through rebellious breaths. "I just—need a moment—" But he took a step forward to offer her his shoulder. Without looking at his face, she leaned forward and sobbed into his expensive coat.

"I don't understand why I needed to cry," she said as soon as she could speak without choking. "I just..."

"It's all right," he reassured her, as if afraid that she would run away if he didn't reassure her. "I understand."

Elizabeth was relieved to see that she hadn't left snot clinging to Mr. Darcy's shoulder. She rubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and felt the indescribable urge to laugh.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I think...I'm really better now."

"That's good. Really."

Mr. Darcy waited until Elizabeth was done drying her tears before asking her, "Did you mean what you told my aunt?"

"What?"

"You told her that you would refuse if I asked to date you."

"Oh," Elizabeth said. She put a hand on her forehead and laughed. "Oh," she repeated. Mr. Darcy frowned, waiting for her to answer.

"Don't look so serious!" Elizabeth giggled. "I lied to her about whether you'd asked me before or not; what makes you think I told the truth when she made me swear to refuse you?"

"Wait." Mr. Darcy looked surprised. "She asked if I already asked you?"

"Yes. She didn't tell you?"

"No, or I missed it."

"What, should I have told her the truth?" Elizabeth teased.

"Actually, I don't care that much at this point," Mr. Darcy said, all seriousness.

"And why not?"

"Because after finding out how you treated her and got away alive, I've lost quite a bit of my former respect for my aunt."

"I'm flattered."

"Your welcome. But you didn't answer my question."

The cold air bit at Elizabeth's tear-streaked cheeks, and she put her hands on her cheeks, attempting to warm them, as she thought.

"And don't feel like you owe it to me," Mr. Darcy added after a long pause. "I'm not trying to sound proud or anything, but just because I...er, did the things I did...doesn't mean you have to date me. If your feelings toward me haven't changed, I'll leave you alone from now on. I won't bother you ever again. But know..."

Mr. Darcy paused for a moment, as if wondering if he should continue.

"Know," he said, "that I did everything I did for you. All of it—all of it was with you in mind. And even if you do refuse me this second time, know that my feelings toward you won't ever change. If you need anything—just—" He cut off there, as if not wanting to go into the possible refusal.

Elizabeth watched him as he spoke. She watched his brown curls, dotted with snowflakes, as they were mussed by the occasional breeze, and his weary, prematurely-wizened blue eyes that haunted the depths of her mind, and his mouth, wondering if he was really asking her again, wondering how it was possible that he didn't hate her after all she'd wrongly assumed.

"You picked the right song to play for me," Elizabeth said, smiling and patting his cheek. He watched her, slightly surprised and still unsure.

She laughed at his boy-like confusion, hugging his arm to her. "I'm saying yes, in a very indirect way."

His confusion dissolved slowly into a rare smile. "That was indirect indeed."

"Sorry. I couldn't think of a colorful way to say 'yes'."

"I forgive you. Please loosen up on my arm; I think you're cutting off the circulation."

"Oh! Sorry, sorry." Elizabeth loosened her hold on his arm, but kept her arms in place anyway. Leaning her cheek on his chest, Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed deeply. His hand came up to slowly hesitantly touch her cheek.

"So, Miss Elizabeth—"

"Aw, don't call me _that_. You may only call me that when you are mad at me."

"Then what should I call you when I'm not angry with you?"

"Lizzy, of course."

"Lizzy, then."

"Yes, Will."

"...Will. Anyway, I think it's Jane who's running toward us."

"Jane?" Elizabeth turned around abruptly, and saw Jane rushing towards them.

"Lizzy?" She called.

"Jane! Um..." Elizabeth looked frantically between Mr. Darcy and her sister.

"What are you doing, just standing there with him? Come back and tell Mom—don't you want to see her face?" As Jane neared them, Elizabeth saw—with intense relief—that Jane was smiling warmly at Mr. Darcy. Jane pulled Elizabeth by the arm towards their house. "Charles told me all about what Mr. Darcy did for me—"

"Charles told you?" Mr. Darcy looked aghast.

"Don't worry, Jane won't tell anyone. Right, Jane?" Elizabeth quickly cut in.

"Yes, yes, of course. Charles told me not to tell anyone too. Now come on! Mom's face when she finds out—"

Elizabeth laughed, and twined her cold fingers with Mr. Darcy's equally-cold fingers, and marveled at how two cold things brought together produced warmth.

* * *

**A/N:** So that's the end. There's the end, ladies and gents. The end.

...

I'm going to go cry and feel stupid now D: I'll miss all of your reviews! And thanks to all who stuck with me throughout, especially **Mimbulus-Mimbletonia17 **and **Tina95**; your reviews, though extremely under-critical (XD), were encouraging and really brightened up my days :D

-sniffle-

btw, if you want to listen to the song "Hallelujah" by Jeff Buckley, here's the link:

http:/ www. youtube. com/watch? v=Pid0n CrsQxM (take out the spaces)

Thanks again to everyone! I'm not sure if I'll be writing another PandP fanfic anytime soon, but I will try! :'D

-Sanded Silk-


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